


kaf·fee·klatsch

by sabrina



Series: kaf·fee·klatsch verse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Background Finn/Rey, Ben has a Darth Vader obsession because of course he does, Finn & Rey may ship it, Finn is the nicest guy you'll ever meet, Hux is a businessman, Hux is an arrogant asshole, I just really have an obsession with coffee shop AUs right now, Kylo Ren is a Theater School graduate hipster barista, Kylo Ren wears braids cause he doesn't give af, M/M, Mitaka well kinda, Opposites attract the hell out of each other, Rey is the Barista that will wink and bless you with an extra shot, The world needs more coffee and coffee shops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-06-10 05:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6941125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sabrina/pseuds/sabrina
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ben Solo is your average hipster barista dealing with your typical entitled customers which he does perfectly acceptably until that day the not so typical entitled customer comes along to drive him completely mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twelve ounce triple shot organic skim milk dry cappuccino with stiff foam

"Have you graduated college?"

The question took Ben off guard and his gaze jerked up from the espresso machine he was cleaning into the faces of two men, one about his own age maybe just a bit older, the other perhaps slightly younger. The first was as pale as the other one was dark, and Ben recognized the one closest to his age as one of the regulars that came in multiple times a week, usually in the evening. He was perfunctory and self-absorbed and unlike some of Ben's customers, he'd never given this one a second thought. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

The younger of the two men had the decency to look apologetic. "Man, that's not something you just go up and ask someone. You aren't hiring him."

"Finn, it's a simple question, and it's relevant to our conversation."

Ben couldn't help rolling his eyes as he turned his attention back to wiping down the espresso machine. "Relevant or no," he told them. "It's not any of your business." 

"Man, I'm sorry, he's a little - you know, not so good with the social graces." 

"There is nothing rude about asking someone about their education."

"It is when the implication of asking is that you think they don't have one," Finn hissed. "Come on, let's go. You're acting like an idiot. Are you sure you didn't get something a little extra in your mug?"

"Why do you want to know?" Despite his irritation and also sudden dislike of the two in front of him, Ben's curiosity was getting the better of him. 

"I was telling Finn that he should stay in school because he didn't want to end up working in a place like this." The older man was haughty and was now standing up. He was nearly as tall as Ben was, and he was dressed in a suit and tie -- way over-dressed for the coffee shop. He had the arrogance of a millionaire, and Ben wondered if he was one, or whether he was just collected self-importance. 

"'Your fancy degree won't keep that from happening," Ben said suddenly, taking both Finn and the other dude off guard. 

"You have a college education?" The red head seemed surprised, and Ben rolled his eyes as he sat the cappuccino cup to the side. 

"Look, man, I'm really sorry about this," the one named Finn leaned across the counter. "Thanks, you know, for the uh, the coffee. It was really good. Best espresso I've had in ages." 

"Tell it to the tip jar," Ben said dryly. 

"Ren is it?" Mr Maybe A Millionaire but Probably Just an Asshole was looking across the counter almost into Ben's eyes. They were about the same height although Ben had no doubt he could take the other man in a fight if he came to it. 

"It's _Ben_ ," he pointed to his name tag without bothering to look at it. 

"College education or no, you are still a perfect example of not applying yourself to the skills and opportunities presented in front of you and Finn could learn a thing or two from that." He pushed his own cup back towards Ben and took a step towards the door. "And your name tag says 'Ren'. You should see about that." 

He strode towards the door as if he owned the entire shop with a gait that would have been better suited to a parade field than the casual atmosphere of a coffee shop, and thus entirely missed Ben's jaw tightening and his teeth grinding together as he watched the man go, annoyed at himself for noticing that there almost certainly was a fine ass underneath the cut of those probably expensive trousers. 

"Sorry," Finn muttered again, and as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a bill and stuffed it in the tip jar, waving with obvious embarrassment as he rushed across the creaky floor to the door and followed the other man out. 

"What happened?" 

Ben turned around to find his cousin and fellow barista, Rey, standing in the entrance from the storage room with several cartons of milk in her hands. Her eyes had followed the two men out of the shop and now she was staring at Ben. He realized this was probably because the rag he'd been wiping everything down with was now dripping water on the floor. He pulled it up irritably and slammed it down on the counter as he reached for the mugs the two had left. 

"Assholes," he muttered. 

"The two that left? They looked nice enough…? Are you sure this isn't just you doing that thing where you hate everyone," Rey put the milk on the counter, opened the refrigeration units and began restocking. 

"I don't hate everyone," Ben spat out. "I hate assholes and these two definitely qualified. Mr. I'm so Smart in my Suit and I'll Look Down On Everyone Else Just Cause was all 'have you had a college education?' and 'You don't want to end up like him'. And he can't even fucking read my name tag. Maybe he needs to go back to kindergarten." 

"Actually, Ben, you've got -" Rey reached over to lift it up. A bit of chocolate syrup was covering up the 'B', making it look remarkably like a white 'R' against the dark base of the tag. 

Ben looked down at it, and it did nothing to improve his mood. "That's obviously covered up and he should have been able to see that," he sneered at no one in particular. "Who the hell is named Ren anyway?" 

Rey shrugged and reached for the cloth to wipe off the chocolate syrup. "Next time don't get so carried away with your mocha making and you'll stay Ben," she grinned at him cheekily. "So, okay, that's not so nice, but really you like working here, right? It lets you do the theatre thing, and it's not like you couldn't do something else." 

"It pays the rent." There was some silence from his co-worker, and he looked over to see her looking at him uncertainly. He sighed. "Look it's not what I planned on doing, but it's okay. I guess."

And that was more or less the truth of it. He'd hardly planned on spending the past six years of his post-University life doing the same thing full-time that he'd done part-time on his way through college. But the owner, Snoke, had offered him the full-time position,and the opportunity to play some major roles in the amateur theatre that Snoke owned downtown. It didn't pay, but it gave him experience and kept him with an ear on the ground for things he really wanted to do. Like theatre, film… even if his parents mentioned every chance they got that perhaps a coffee shop and community theatre wasn't the most worthwhile thing. 

Which was perhaps what really rankled about Mr Maybe A Millionaire blah blah was that he sounded like Ben's dad and then, additionally, he sounded like the voice in Ben's head that crept in sometimes at night when he wondered if he shouldn't have just done what his Mom wanted and become a priest. Although he was pretty certain he would have made a horrible priest. He liked beer too much, and watched too much late night porn, he loved to be on stage pretending he was anyone but himself. 

"Ugh," he breathed out, and wiped down the rest of the espresso machine pushing the thoughts from his head. Because really this was the worst sin of Mr Millionaire's stupid commentary, was that it reminded Ben that this wasn't really what he'd wanted from life after all, or worse, he didn't _know_ how to make his life look like what he wanted it to look like, so he just kept doing what Snoke suggested, which meant, more or less, serving coffee to people like Mr Millionaire who just looked down on him while trying out for roles in local theatre that was (at best) unlikely to get him into anything more. 

He crossed over to the tip jar and pulled in the wadded bill that Finn had stuck in and straightened it out. "Shit." 

Rey's eyes widened as she came up behind him. "That's a twenty." 

Ben raised his eyes to the window but both of the men were now gone. Good riddance, he reminded himself, and hoped that the one never came back while he was on shift. He was likely to spit in his coffee. But Finn had _tried_ to stop the train wreck, it just had been impossible for him to slow the curb of nasty from his companions mouth. A $20 couldn't make up for the implication that Ben's life was lacking in all value because he was working at a coffee shop, but on the other hand, it was still a $20 and Rey would gain something from it too. 

"Fine," he amended. "Only one of them was an asshole." 

A full weekend passed, and another, and Ben had began to suspect that maybe the asshole was less of one than Ben had originally believed and was (rightfully) too embarrassed to show his face again, when at the all too early hour of 5am on a Monday morning, he reached for a to-go cup with a pen poised to write and glanced up into a pale face framed by red hair that was slicked back too harshly to really be attractive despite nice cheekbones. 

"Great, it's you," he rolled his eyes. "What do you want?" 

"A twelve ounce triple shot organic skim milk dry cappuccino with stiff foam."

Ben barely controlled rolling his eyes again as he poised his pen over the cup and looked up. "Name?" 

"Hux. You ought to try a smile, and possibly a greeting to the customers. The owner can't be elated to see you greet anyone this way." 

Ben wrote 'hucks' on the cup and looked up at him incredulously. "Are you kidding? You come in here, you use me for some sort of example of poor life choices for your… friend? Mentee? Whatever the hell he is, and you don't know shit about my life, or my choices, or what reasons I might have for making them, and then you don't even bother to apologize, or see how you did anything wrong. So you can fuck off." 

Hux's green eyes narrowed. "I want to speak to the manager." 

For the first time since he'd seen the green eyes and smug face standing on the other side of the counter, Ben felt a sense of radical glee and a sense of overwhelming gratitude to Snoke for having pushed him to do the management position. His lips turned up in a smirk. "You are. Now do you want the cappuccino? Cause it's $3.50." 

A silence fell between them and Ben shifted his weight, tilting his head to consider Hux. Was he going to demand to have information to contact the owner? Ben was reasonably certain Snoke would be on his side, but there was a sliver of doubt that maybe he wouldn't be, or he'd get a reprimand for telling a customer off. Was he going to ask to see the store manager (not that he could at 5am)? Or was he going to just take the damn coffee? 

His gaze fell on Hux's face again. The hair could be a lot more attractive if it was left soft. It was a thought that left Ben cursing the fact that he apparently seemed to keep thinking about Hux's appearances despite himself. A muscle in Hux's cheek twitched, and Ben straightened up so that he was as tall as he could be, which to his sincere pleasure was just a tiny bit taller than Hux. He raised an eyebrow but still didn't deign to say anything. The man knew the price of the coffee. 

Ben had begun to suspect the man would turn around and walk out the door, when instead he reached into his wallet and pulled out four bills, placing them on the counter and moving to the side. "You may keep the rest in that tip jar, Ren." 

Ben stared at the bills for a moment, and then evenly cashed them out, taking the two quarters and placing them not in the tip jar, but to the side directly in front of Hux. Feeling decidedly better about not keeping any of the man's change, he reached for the cup and began the process of making the cappucino, not bothering to readjust the grind from the last drink he'd made. Really Rey should be here by now - then she could be dealing with Hux instead of Ben having to deal with him. When he glanced up out of the corner of his eyes he could see Hux staring not at his phone, which had been his typical action prior to the whole fallout with Finn by his side, but rather at the two coins, which he had not yet deigned to pick up. The briefest of smirks flirted at the edge of Ben's lips. Let Hux try to decide if he was going to pick them back up and put them back in his pocket or walk them over to the tip jar himself. 

"Would you really _recommend_ this job to anyone?" 

Ben looked up from the espresso, stared at Hux, and then returned to the espresso, reaching for regular milk and ignoring the organic stipulation as he poured it into heat up.

"I'm serious," and for the first time, Ben realized Hux had a bit of an accent. British maybe? Figured, considering how stuck-up he seemed. Ben didn't say anything and contemplated likelihood of accidentally spitting in the coffee when Hux was standing right there staring at him and having him not notice it. Those odds seemed low, so he put a cap on the cappuccino and handed it over without a word. 

Hux seemed not used to people ignoring him and unless Ben was very mistaken, Hux didn't know what to do with it now that his questions had been rebuffed with silence. He took the cup and then sat down at the bar. 

"I'm not sure why you are offended by my noting that this job is not an ideal for someone of your age. You could be doing something much better." 

Ben slammed down the portafilter, which seemed to startle Hux. He also seemed startled when instead of apologizing Ben simply stepped closer to get further up into his face. "Maybe this is what I _want_ to be doing; did you ever think of that?" 

"Why would you want to-?" 

"Because as jobs go, there could be worse," Ben replied, the volume of his voice growing microscopically with each word. "I could be stuck in some shit office in my father's company moving numbers about on a spreadsheet. Instead I come in every day to this place, which smells amazing, and I get to work with people who are reasonably decent human beings, including my cousin, who is basically the only family member I have that will not make you completely crazy if you're locked in a room alone with her for an hour. I work for someone who believes I have potential and possibility and when I go home after my shift, I have not spent my entire creative energy on a corporation that will downsize me or my benefits the next time they're monetarily short in the budget flow and so I have some left over for put some of that into the world. And most importantly, I make people's lives better!" 

This final came out loudly enough that four heads turned from various points in the coffee shop, including Maz, a regular customer who came every morning and asked for a dark roast drip coffee which she consumed while knitting impressively intricate sweaters. She raised an eyebrow at him and Ben turned his attention back to Hux angry at Hux for getting him upset and angry at himself for not staying more calm.

Hux's fingers were wrapped around the cup he'd been handed and he seemed to be working for something to say. Finally he raised his head and spoke, his words as stunningly arrogant as they had been previously. "I fail to see how -" 

"You have coffee now where ten minutes ago you didn't," Ben pointed out, the look from Maz having pulled his temper back in. "Your life is better than it was ten minutes ago. And that's because I have _this_ job, making you _that_ coffee. So you can take your arrogant assumptions about me and throw them out in the alley dumpster. And while you're at it, you can take yourself, and you can leave, because I don't want to see your face again." 

Arrogance tightened into genuine offense. "I'm going to call the owner and report your behavior." 

Ben eyes narrowed and he stepped across to the cash register, grabbing up one of the business cards and a pen, placing the card on the wooden counter in front of Hux, he used the pen to circle Snoke's name, number, and email. As he finished he pushed the card towards Hux, his heartbeat pounding that maybe, _maybe_ he had taken this a step too far this time, but he'd dug his heels in now, and he couldn't undo that without allowing Hux to win this, and Ben had _no_ intention of allowing that to happen. 

He stepped back, jaw tight, and words terse. "His name is Snoke, he's typically not in his office Monday or Tuesday, those are his coffee buying days. Email will always catch him, but he's a little shy of phones, so good luck with reaching him that way. Feel free to tell him you're having problems with 'Ren'. Now _get out_."

There was a wild moment of too many heartbeats where Ben wondered if Hux was going to push back, or stay just to see if he could press the barista a step too far, and where Ben wondered if he'd actually be willing to punch a customer (answer, it seemed when it was this idiot was, yes, he might be), before Hux pushed the stool back. It scraped loudly against the wood floor, once again drawing the attention of everyone in the coffee shop, including this time, Rey, who had finally arrived breathlessly through the front door, pulling her coat and scarf off as she moved to clock in for her shift. Hux grabbed up the card, but not the two quarters, and not the cappuccino, and he gave Ben a dirty look before turning and walking through the door. 

Ben watched him go, idly thinking that Hux leaving was the best part of him being there, because of the unfortunately attractive backside the man had. If he were _nicer_ , Ben might have tried to flirt, or something and probably it would have ended badly. 

Rey also watched Hux go as she quietly skirted around a table and towards the counter. She lifted the gate into the coffee area, and she looked at Ben. "What the hell just happened?" 

"Asshole struck again," Ben said, sounding remarkably more calm than he felt. In truth his heart was pounding as he realized that he'd handed Hux the number of his boss, the one person on the planet who seemed to actually be interested in what Ben himself wanted, and the one person who seemed to believe in him. Ben swallowed and glared at the cup before taking it, aggressively removing the lid and pouring the entire thing down the sink. 

Rey looked at the two quarters on the counter. "Did he leave those?" 

"They're a tip, I don't want them. You can have them if you want."

"What did he say." 

"Rey, just, can we not?!? For five minutes? Just not ask questions?" 

The outburst made her stop and Ben instantly felt a pang of guilt. Rey was pretty much the one person in his life, outside of Snoke, who didn't seem to hate him, and considering what had just happened with Hux, he probably couldn't afford to piss her off too. He breathed out in an aggravated huff and wiped his hands on the apron. "Sorry," he muttered. "We need more milk; I'll be back."

"Okay," she said in the way that he knew she was scared to push any further right now, which only made him feel worse. As he headed towards the store room he could hear her turn around and greet the customer that had just walked in with the cheery tone that seemed to come so easily to her and once in the hallway, he stopped. Guilty for leaving her alone and yelling for her, but also needing the space. 

It was possible he'd just really fucked up. And the worst part was that he might not know for days, weeks even, just how much. He pushed his hands up to his face and breathed in some half-hearted attempt at one of his mother's Yoga videos that he hadn't seen for years. It didn't really help, but then it never really had. He stood up, huffed his breath out, and re-calibrated his mental energies. 

Ben still had an entire shift ahead of him and he couldn't just leave Rey to do it all by herself so he had to get a grip. He hadn't been wrong to kick Hux out, not really. And even if Hux did contact Snoke, what then? Who was Snoke going to believe? Ben or some angry asshole of a customer who probably would call him Ren and leave Snoke confused as to who was being talked about? Snoke had told Ben one day that he had the potential to do way more than community theatre. Snoke liked Ben and he believed in him. So if it was Ben versus some other guy then that was the answer. 

He hoped.


	2. Sixteen ounce pumpkin spice latte (with extra spice)

"You should make Ben a sweater. He's always cold." 

"I'm not," Ben protested from his place in front of the espresso machine. "It's just cold outside right now."

Rey laughed and leaned across the counter as she placed her change in Maz's wrinkled hand, and slid the cup of fair trade sumatra towards her. "Make him a sweater, and I'll even make sure he wears it." 

"What is your favorite color young man? Blue? Brown?"

"Black, clearly," Rey threw a grin over her shoulder. 

"Black goes with everything and doesn't show coffee stains, and it's an essential tech color at the theater," Ben provided his usual list of reasons why black made up ninety-five percent of his wardrobe. "Really, Maz. I've plenty of sweaters." 

"But you don't have one of mine," Maz returned confidently, her finger pointing into the air towards Ben. She turned her twinkling amber eyes to Rey. "He's big, but I could probably finish by November." 

Rey's cheeks dimpled. "You think?"

"Hmm. Definitely by Thanksgiving; possibly before that."

"But not before they start putting Christmas decorations out," Ben muttered as he poured more beans into the top of the espresso machine. 

That had already happened two weeks ago. There was something terribly incongruous about seeing pumpkins and jack-o-lanterns on one aisle and evergreen on the next. When he was a boy it had gone Halloween, then Thanksgiving, and then sometime around the time that turkey's were being sold, the Christmas went up. Now it felt like you could find Santas in nearly every store in July, thus making Christmas in July not all that special after all. Personally, Ben preferred it the old-fashioned way. Not that he really gave a shit about holidays, but at least when Christmas had been one month out of the year it had felt more magical - like something that might _matter_.

Maz took her coffee cup in both hands and made her way across to one of the booth tables by the window where she sat down the coffee and pulled her knitting out of her bag. 

"Rey, if I end up with a sweater…" Ben threatened. 

"You'll what? Enjoy having one, and wear it while you listen to bands no one has ever heard of because it keeps you surprisingly warm despite the draft in our apartment?" Rey's eyes twinkled, and her dimples persisted. 

"I just don't want her to feel obligated is all," Ben sighed. "And she might now, you just suggest things and go off on tangents and-"

"You know, you might deserve a Maz sweater despite being a real human example of Grumpy Cat," Rey playfully punched his elbow. 

Ben sighed.

Rey laughed. "I'm going to go get more to go cups. Do we need anything else?"

"More napkins maybe." 

"On it!" 

Rey was no sooner gone through the storage door than Finn walked through the door. 

Where it had been over a month since Ben had seen Hux, Finn had become an increasingly frequent fixture at the shop. First it was mornings, and he'd talk to Rey, and then it afternoons also, and finally about two weeks ago he'd gotten up the nerve to ask Rey out to a film, and Ben had been forced to listen to an entire shift of Rey's delighted chatter. But mostly it was all right with Ben. Despite their bad introduction, Finn seemed to be a decent guy after all, and that was without the twenty dollar tip. He'd show up, order a coffee, and sit on the bench and talk to Rey as she made Americanos or Lattes, and Ben figured it was a good thing he didn't drive him nuts. Especially when he started showing up at the apartment he shared with Rey in the evenings. 

Of course it didn't hurt that at the same time Finn had been spending more evenings over, Ben had been spending fewer evenings at home as the current theater piece he was working on had started serious nightly rehearsals to prepare for the Thanksgiving week opening. 

"Hey Ben," Finn approached him. "Rey in?" 

"Yeah, she just went to the back," Ben waved a hand towards the storage room. "She'll be back out shortly. What can I get you?" 

"Actually nothing right now, I just came to invite her to a Halloween party this weekend." 

"A what?" Rey's eyes flew wide as she returned cup roles scattering over the counter. "Seriously? Costumes and the whole deal?" 

"Yeah, costumes and the whole deal," Finn grinned. "In fact, I was kinda thinking, maybe we could do a couples costume." 

"I don't do _silly_ costumes," Rey's face turned serious. "We're very intense with our costuming." 

Finn looked over at Ben who shook his head. "Not since I was nine, unless I'm on a stage." 

"You should come though," Finn gave him a quick grin, momentarily sidetracked from his primary goal. 

Rey looked at Finn and then she turned around to Ben, delighted dimples in full force. "Yes, you have to! You never do anything, you could something this year and not just sit in the apartment growling because children inevitably hit the doorbell despite the sign on the door saying 'we don't do candy here'." 

"I have rehearsal." 

"On Halloween?" 

"Well, earlier," Ben explained, defensively. "Seriously, not interested." 

"There's like a sixty percent chance that he'll be with me," Rey told Finn. "Maybe seventy percent." 

"I don't have a costume." 

"Well neither do we," Finn said. "But we'll figure something out and all you gotta do is go to a costume shop. It's not super fancy. Hux just likes having people over."

"Hux?" Ben turned his attention suddenly to Finn. "Mr. 'Do you have a college education or are you stupid?' That Hux?" 

Finn seemed to have realized his mistake, but it was too late to put it back in his mouth and avoid the topic of conversation. He winced. "You know, man, he's not like that most of the time." 

"No," Ben preemptively responded to the question he knew Rey was about to ask. "Not going. Your sixty percent chance just went to negative sixty." 

"What if you had a mask? And he didn't know it was you?" Rey persisted despite his no. "You'd get free beer, and the knowledge of knowing that Hux had given it to you. That would be worth something wouldn't it?" 

"Not happening," Ben reiterated. "You two can hang out with the devil on Halloween if you really want to but I've got lines to study anyway." He turned to Finn. "Were you going to buy coffee, or just invite us to your hellmouth?" 

" _Benny_!" Rey glared at him. 

He frowned back at her, but he realized he'd managed to go too far and sighed, putting the cloth down on the counter. "I'm going to go get napkins." 

Rey had gotten some already, but it was easier to go get more than to figure out proper social engagement for stepping out of a conversation he'd somehow been pulled into despite himself. He'd managed to hurt Finn's feelings, and probably Rey's. He sighed heavily and leaned his forehead against the doorframe. The truth was a month later he could still work himself into a fairly passionate rant about Hux's comments. And then Hux had returned, and hadn't even bothered to admit that he'd done anything wrong and even had seemed to try to justify his statement, which possibly made Ben more furious than if he'd come, and ignored the entire event. 

Ben had almost hoped that Hux would return again so that he could behave coldly, but he hadn't. He hadn't stepped foot inside the coffee shop door after that morning where he'd left his cappuccino and walked out, and that entire interaction had just left Ben feeling irritated and like he hadn't done or said something that he should have. Considering he hadn't heard a word from Snoke about the event, Ben was pretty certain he should have gone all out and not held back on the words, because clearly Hux hadn't had the balls to call Snoke. Or Snoke had just let it go to voicemail and never called him back. 

The idea of Hux leaving message after irritable message on the voicemail and Snoke calmly deleting voicemail after voicemail as they appeared made Ben smile for some reason. He pushed himself off the doorframe and headed into the main storeroom. 

He had no intention on going to the party, free beer or no. 

After that night's rehearsal, Ben let himself into the apartment as quietly as possible. His first clue that something was wrong was when the light in the living room was on. As he closed the door quietly and turned around he realized that this was because Rey was sitting on the sofa, her phone in one hand, playing a game - well, probably. Usually at this hour she was asleep, but instead she was staring up at him.

"I want you to come to the party with Finn and I," she said without preamble.

"I already said I wasn't," he sighed and dropped his bag. "That guy is a terrible human being. I want nothing to do with him." 

"That terrible human being is the reason Finn and I met in the first place," Rey pointed out. "Yes, he was terribly rude, and yes he didn't apologize, but have you ever met yourself, Ben? Really? You can say the most rude things, and you almost never admit that you're wrong." 

"That's not true." 

Rey threw her hands up in the air. "Case in freaking point!" 

Ben frowned and sank down on the sofa across from her. "Fine, sometimes I'm wrong, are you happy?"

"No," Rey said. "You can get a costume, a masked one, but I want you to come. You never do anything fun, it's all the coffee shop and your theater stuff. This has the potential to be fun, and more importantly I don't think you know Hux at all. Finn _works_ for him, and he's been incredibly instrumental in making certain Finn gets additional education. That doesn't seem like the most terrible of human beings to me." 

"I don't care how philanthropic he is," Ben glared. "He was horrible." 

"You owe this to Finn." 

"What?" Ben exclaimed. "I don't owe Finn anything." 

"Then you owe it to me," Rey countered. "Because Finn is my boyfriend, and because you hurt his feelings today, and you owe both of us for _you_ being an asshole, so if you can admit you're wrong, then say you'll come with me." 

It was one am and Ben was exhausted. He looked at Rey and five thousand responses shifted through his mind, telling her to shove off, or fuck off, or other variations some more rude than others, but in the end he looked over and he pulled himself to his feet. "I'll decide in the morning." 

"Ben." 

"Seriously, Rey, I'll decide in the morning, I'm not making any promises, I'm really tired." 

"Ben!" 

"Fine," he turned around and shot her a glare. "Are you happy _now_?" 

"More so." 

"I'm going to bed," he grumbled nearly one hundred percent certain that he was going to regret this in the morning. If he was lucky she would forget about it, and then he could simply say that there was no possible way he could go to a party without a costume. Even Rey at her most persistent wouldn't make him go without a costume and since he had no intention of picking one up, it was almost certainly assured that he wouldn't be forced to attend. 

Although if he did for some reason end up going… he'd wear something amazing. Something that could allow him to pick a role for the evening and to stick with it, something charming and popular, and Hux would see it, but Ben wouldn't say five words to him. He could just enjoy watching Ben talk to and flirt with a dozen other people, or maybe dozens. Ben was really too tired to spend much of the few moments before he fell asleep really imagining this, but it was easy enough to do, because the role he would play was one he was desperately familiar with, family videos and stories of the parties his grandfather had once thrown for the New York theater scene. And always a man with features a little more classic than Ben's own, and an ease with people that Ben could only dream of… but if he could succeed in it for one night a night where Hux could see it, would be ideal.

With Halloween a week away, there was enough time for Rey to forget, and when she said nothing the next morning, neither did Ben. Instead he threw himself into work during the day, and rehearsals at night, with usually a three hour nap between the two to make up for the 1am arrival at home after rehearsal, and the 4:30am wake-up for the work at the shop. The schedule guaranteed that he didn't see Rey for more than just a few moments, at home and during their overlapping shift, and by some miracle she didn't mention the party again. Not a question about whether or not he was going to get a costume, not a reminder, nothing at all. 

When the day of the thirtieth came and went without any questions or conversations, Ben drew a sigh of relief. He no longer had time to go out and get a costume. He wouldn't have time between work and rehearsal the next night, as the rehearsal was earlier than normal in order to give the cast time to go out and do things if they wished. 

"You know it's a full-moon tonight," Maz told him with a wink as she retrieved her dark coffee at 5:15am the morning of Halloween. 

"That's why I'm staying in," Ben responded easily. 

She eyed him and tilted her head. "You wear tall sizes don't you?" 

"Maz, I know Rey sometimes comes up with these things, but really she's just joking," Ben protested. 

"Have a Happy Halloween staying in," Maz's eyes twinkled as she moved across to her usual window. 

For a second Ben wondered if she knew something he didn't, but he was interrupted by the next customer, a man in a business suit - not Hux - who looked as if he didn't want his drink to take any time at all, so Ben shifted his focus. At the end of his shift he headed to rehearsal via a quick stop by the apartment and when he walked in, he stopped short in his tracks.

In the middle of the coffee room table sat a helmet. 

Ben stared at it for a moment as his emotions whirled up and then quietly began to sink into a feeling of dread. "Rey!?" 

"Oh, good there you are," Rey came out of the bedroom, dressed in a princess costume that Ben didn't recognize. "I was afraid you wouldn't get home in time for me to cross paths with you."

"What is this?" Ben pointed to the helmet. 

"It's a Darth Vader helmet," Rey supplied helpfully, and looking entirely too pleased with herself. 

"Rey…"

"Oh Benny calm down, you loved Darth Vader, he was your favorite -"

"When I was twelve!" 

"-and I figured you wouldn't want anyone to be able to see your face so you could avoid Hux if you wanted to so-"

"I'm not going to this fucking party!"

"- I went and rented one for you and it's perfect, really it is. You're tall enough to pull off a particularly spectacular Vader, and no one will expect you to be nice, you can pretend to Force choke people who annoy you. Really it's perfect." 

Ben just stared at her. 

"You said you were going. Do you have another costume plan?"

Of course he didn't because he had been planning on her forgetting and him not having a costume to get him out of the whole affair. 

"I'm not just wearing a helmet to the party wi-"

"Oh, no of course not," Rey laughed. "The rest of it is hanging on your bedroom closet. I'll see you there - seven o'clock, okay? If I don't see a Vader, I'm going to come back here and drag you there myself, and I'll be mad that you've made me come back here so don't make me do that." 

Ben left her in the living room and stalked to the closet. 

The costume was certainly up to theatrical standards. He stared at it for a moment trying to stay angry, but despite himself, and despite his wish to continue to let Rey know how irritable this whole thing made him, and how terribly put upon he felt, and how unfair it was to expect him to associate with assholes - he could feel a stupid excitement welling up in him. It was the costume he'd always wanted to wear as an awkward, gawky pre-teen who had decided an obscene love of Darth Vader was his mask to get him through all of it. Maybe it hadn't quite, and maybe the most he'd had to do with Darth Vader recently had been a comics subscription dumping the lines onto his tablet, but twenty-nine-year-old him had to agree with twelve-year-old him: this costume was fucking awesome. 

Which was how Ben found himself at the party he'd sworn he wouldn't go to. He didn't know what he'd been expecting from the house, possibly something ostentatious, but the address he arrived at proved to be not that at all. Oh it was nice and new, a clearly multi-bedroomed house in the suburbs, with what appeared to be a well-groomed lawn, although it was difficult to tell for the ghosts and tombstones dotting it. But it was similar to other houses Ben had been in during his lifetime, and so with some annoyance he swallowed one of his proposed reasons to dislike Hux and walked in. 

"Ben!"

He turned somewhat awkwardly to find himself being approached by Rey and her Prince Finn. And somewhat despite himself Ben had to admit they looked fantastic. Rey had been right when she said they went all out, part and parcel of the family's theater background Ben supposed, and she had almost certainly held Finn to their standards. 

"I sense something, a presence I have not felt for… " he trailed off to the sound of Finn's laughter.

"Dude that is fantastic. You are freakin' fantastic. You look just like him!" 

Rey was dimples and smiles. "Finn's right." 

"I have no idea how I'm going to be able to dance in this thing," he complained. 

"You were planning on dancing?" Rey teased. 

"Oh, shut up, you know what I mean. Where's the beer?" 

"I'll get you one.' 

It was impossible to drink the beer through a helmet however, which meant that Ben ended up surreptitiously snatching sips from time to time. If there was a costume contest, which it seemed unlikely that there would be, he figured that he and Rey and Finn would easily win. There were some decent if obviously rented costumes, but their wearers had fallen down on the aspect of accessorizing or giving themselves a proper wig, or they might have on shoes that were not appropropriate. There were also several dozen people who had picked something up from Wal-mart on the way here, apparently seeing that as their ticket to the open bar.

Outside of the drinking challenges, it turned out to be low-key to be Darth Vader at a Halloween party. At least three women tried to flirt with him, a dozen people wanted pictures, but none of them seemed particularly interested in finding out who he was. It would have made a good costume to come in and steal Hux blind. Everyone expected him to be there, nobody knew or cared who he was, and he could wander the house without any challenges except for photorequests. He also hadn't seen Hux, which by the end of the evening and two very determined beers later, Ben was beginning to wonder if Finn had been wrong the party's host.

As the evening wore on Ben walked through the french patio doors and out onto a stone patio that earlier in the evening had probably looked a bit like a vampire's lair, but currently just looked like the end of a party. 

"The world's most popular modern villain alongside the world's oldest villain, there's something poetic about that isn't there?" 

Ben turned his head and there was missing Hux, wearing some cheap $30 devil's costume, if you could even call it a costume. It seemed to mostly consist of him wearing longsleeved red shirt, red trousers, and having attached horns to his head and a tail to his bottom. He had a glass of beer in one hand and a joint in the other, and it was so outside the picture of what Ben would have imagined that Hux would wear and do at a party, that he just stared. 

"Silence, yes, I get it, in character," he half raised the glass towards Ben."You know when I was a kid I got sick, and I'd never seen any of those movies before, and my babysitter put them on, and I watched the whole thing from beginning to end, and they were pretty decent." 

"I find your lack of costume disturbing." It was the only thing he could think of, and it felt stupid the instant it came out of his mouth, but Hux laughed. Hux was most assuredly drunk. 

"This isn't a lack of costume," Hux smirked, only confirming Ben's suspicions. "Although I can make it one if you want it to be."

That was… unexpected, and Ben was suddenly grateful for the helmet. 

"Who's the man under the mask anyway?" 

"Anakin Skywalker." Ben responded easily. 

"Here's a question," Hux settled down into a lounge chair next to him. "It's important so sit down. The prequels…" 

"No, you don't," Ben's tongue sparked to life. "People always shit on them, but they aren't nearly as bad as everyone makes them out to be. They're different stories than the Originals and they're tragic stories really, you've got this man who was destined for amazing things, and he gets bogged down in a system that tries to control that and own him - it's a story about slavery."

Hux had stopped at Ben's interruptions, and his eyebrows went up, and now he leaned forward. "Sometimes you need the rules and the organization, that's what the Jedi Order offered him, admittedly I think they were kind of all hypocrites, but he joined the Empire willingly after, and they were all rules too." 

"Willingly? Really?" Ben did sit down now as Hux had asked him to either, the fact that he was talking to Hux sort of taking back seat to the particulars of the conversation. "He was manipulated into it to save the person he loved."

"Yeah, but it was his choice."

"Because he feared for her life, it was about someone else, that's hardly a selfish choice." 

"You can't save everyone, and allowing someone else to control that much of you is dangerous, obviously." 

"You don't know what it's like to love someone so much you'd do anything to keep them safe, _obviously_ ," Ben threw the final word in with a smugness bordering on irritability. 

"It was such a disappointment though, this villain is iconic, and then becoming that villain was all just a romantic sob story…" 

"A romantic _sob_ story?" Ben realized that he was squeezing the plastic cup of beer he was holding a little too tightly and he sat it down on the table beside him. "It's a tragic story of lost love." 

"You probably think Romeo and Juliet is fine form as well," Hux threw back at him. 

"Shakespeare is Shakespeare," Ben pointed his finger at the devil sitting next to him. "It's classic for a reason. And like it or not Romeo & Juliet is the classic tale of star-crossed lovers and it stands on its own merits." 

"Nobody in it is likable," Hux pointed out. "You've got these two rival gangs just wanting to shoot each other all the time, and then you've got Romeo who can't think about anything other than some pretty face he's just seen, and he calls it love." 

"You sound defensive." 

"What? No, that's bull-shit, I don't fall in love like that. Nobody falls in love like that. Lust maybe, yeah? But just go have sex, get it out of your system. Or avoid the person, get it out of your system, don't moon and whine, and poison yourself over the whole thing." 

"You don't think there's love worth dying for." 

"Nothing is worth dying for if you can survive." 

" _That's_ bull-shit," Ben snapped back at him. "There are things worth dying for, or they wouldn't be worth having." 

"That's such an emotion driven," Hux frowned and waved one of his hands about as he tried to search for a phrase and finally came up with: "load of crock. It's a load of crock. Not everything needs to be wides ups and downs, that's why you end up with people doing all sorts of stupid things. Keep your emotions reined in. Be mature, like half of the world's problems would be solved if people would just think logically and not be dramatic about every offence or perceived offence, or hormonally driven boner." 

"If everything is logic, then you never have love," Ben pointed out. "You never have feeling, you don't know what it's like to have someone look at you like you're the only star in their system. You don't have fine art, or drama, or stories, and you don't have amazing opera or compositions or music, you don't have _life_. We might as well all be cylons or something." 

"The cylons got plenty of sex," Hux shrugged and took a drink.

"Sex isn't love, it's just a physical thing that people who love each other do. But people who don't love each other also do. It's like - shaking hands." 

Hux stared at him. "You just seriously said sex is like shaking hands." 

Ben glared back, even though Hux couldn't see him under the mask. 

"So, that means, that if I were to reach out and shake your hand, it'd be the same thing as having sex with you." 

"That's-" Ben turned his head to stare of in the distance, once again grateful for the helmet, but half wishing he could take a drink. He could feel Hux's gaze on him, and he could hear Hux move, but what he wasn't expecting was the feel of a hand against his arm, and another against his fingertips, as it pulled on the edges of the glove he wore. Ben turned around to find himself mere inches from Hux's face, and Hux's hand on his arm, the other pulling his glove off. Ben went to jerk his arm away, but it was easier said than done considering the proximity and how he was backed against a chair, and then there were fingers trailing down his skin, followed by a surprisingly firm hand-shake. 

"Well?" Hux raised an eyebrow. "Are you feeling satisfied?" 

Ben half wondered if he was drunk. There was no answer to the question that would not give away the fact that the long finger running across the top of his hand seemed to have shot desire straight up his arm to be answered by a stirring in his briefs. He hated the man in front of him on principle, even if for not his terrible non-critical assessments of theater and film. But right now Hux was close enough that Ben suspected he would feel his breath if he wasn't wearing the helmet, and Hux's eyes were intense, and he had the longest eyelashes, pulling Ben in like each one was a tiny hook and Ben was the prey. 

He moistened his lips. "You'll need to try harder." 

Hux's answer was a smirk. "I'd have to start taking off my costume for that, and this isn't that kind of party, _Anakin_." 

"It's Darth Vader to you." 

"Of course it is."

Hux stood up then, his hand trailing down Ben's now bare one as he did. He dropped the glove he'd taken off back into Ben's hand. "Well Darth Vader, do tell the Emperor that General Hux is pleased to do whatever his bidding is. And as his agent, that goes for you too."

It was official. Ben was drunk. Or completely insane. Or both. He stood up, full height unfolding to several inches taller than Hux with the height of the helmet, but Hux didn't seem to be intimidated. Instead he gave Ben a look as if he knew the extent of the power he was demonstrating, and he turned to walk back inside. 

Hux paused as he stood by the door. He had to know how evocative he looked back lit against the light from inside, his head tilted just so, two absurd horns rising from hair Ben now wanted to run his fingers through. "I know you aren't Darth Vader. What _is_ your name?" 

"I'm just a dime a dozen actor that wants to do film someday," Ben realized that was entirely too honest, but it might be enough to shut him up and he wasn't going to give Hux the pleasure of his actual name. 

"You in anything currently?" 

"Community theater," Ben admitted. "Nothing important." 

"You just spoke very passionately about the arts. It's clear you think they're all important," Hux pointed out and there was a beat before he added. "And maybe I don't disagree with you." 

Ben blinked, but Hux had already started walking away, leaving Ben's head spinning with too much desire and the possible beginnings of a headache. He reached for the cup of beer, promised himself that he'd find Finn and Rey, and that whether they were ready to go, or not, he was leaving. He'd fulfilled whatever request Rey had asked of him, _more_ than fulfilled it, and he was going home.


	3. Cortado, less milk

Ben had long ago gotten used to being awake before the sun, particularly in the winter, but in a kind world, he would not have been awake at 5:42 trying to figure out the precise amount of steamed milk the Louboutin wearing woman wanted in her cortado the night after a Halloween party that had left him lying awake for far longer than he was likely to admit to Rey _ever_. The world was not kind, however, which of course meant that he was making a cortado, and the woman was eyeing him as if he were about to surprise her with a latte instead. For not the first time this morning (and he'd been here less than an hour), Ben was tempted to throw the espresso down and just walk out. 

"Here you are," he even smiled as he handed the espresso over. 

"I think it's going to be too milky." The woman pursed her lips before tasting it and wrinkling up her forehead. "No," she stuck it back across. "Please remake it - less milk, that's just - no." 

He took a breath and counted to ten before reaching for a second cup to start over. This second attempt was apparently good enough although she looked as if she wished she could take back the insignificant tip she'd left before she walked out the door. 

The entire morning was a series of unending drink orders and when Rey showed up, she took her place at the register moving the orders to Ben who simply threw himself into making them, because making drinks was easier than thinking about pale fingers running down his bare hand, or how that inspired the want of something more. 

Ben had spent more moments thinking about Hux in the past few months then he had actually spent moments in the man's presence which was not just ridiculous, it was humiliating. The man had insulted him and that should have been the end of it. But after last night's ill-advised encounter, he apparently seemed to be focusing on aspects of Hux that were more thrilling than insulting. His mind kept wandering to the notion of taking the wrist in his own hand, pushing it back, and using his lips to cease any possible insults. 

He looked up to find Maz holding out her mug to him along with a measuring tape. 

Ben stared at the latter object as he took the former. "Sumatra?" 

"Hmm, yes. And here, put this end up on your shoulder," Maz handed him the tape measure's end and Ben looked at it. 

"Maz…" 

"Don't be disagreeable," Maz said easily but firmly. "Just stick it up there."

"I really don't need you to-"

"Measure your arm before I have to get cross and skip your tip today," Maz placed a forefinger on the counter, but with enough determination to be intimidating. 

Ben reached for the tape and put it up, following the line of his arm down to his fingertips. He'd been measured enough for costumes that he knew what he was doing. Maz considered the final number and nodded. 

"And back of neck to waist."

Ben ran through another three measurements, his neck, his chest, and his waist before she was happy, dropping her dollar coins in the tip jar, and moving off to her usual location. Ben watched her go and as he took a cup from Rey with a glare, he was reminded that first opportunity he got he was going to grump at Rey - _again_.

He always got pulled into the most ridiculous situations, and it was almost always Rey's doing. This sweater thing was a perfect example, although at least it was mostly benign. The situation with last night's party had been an example of _not_ benign. It had cost him sleep, and also made him think about things he'd prefer to not spend time thinking about... And here he was thinking about them again.

He made a disgruntled noise of displeasure as the next customer disrupted his thoughts with a correction.

"Two pumps of _toffee nut_ , not two of _vanilla_." 

Ben looked at her and the drink in his hand, reading off the directions. "Iced breve with 3 and ½ shots, two pumps of vanilla and one of toffee nut."

"That's not what I ordered. It's the other way around, two toffee nut, _one_ vanilla." 

"I'm just going by what's on the cup," Ben snapped. "It says two vanilla and one toffee nut."

"The cup is wrong!" 

"I didn't put the information on the cup!" 

"Whoa! What's wrong, oh I messed it up didn't I?" Rey looked at the woman. "I am so sorry, it's my fault. Here, Benny, it's just," she pulled the cup from his hands, dumped it in the trashcan and handed him another one with the proper information on it. "See, my bad," she offered a quick smile to the woman. "We'll get it fixed." 

"Well, see that you do," she huffed slightly, keeping her eyes on Ben as if she didn't trust him. 

When she walked away Rey looked over at him. "What's with you this morning?" 

"Nothing. And you know I hate it when you call me Benny in front of customers." 

"What happened last night?" 

"Nothing happened last night," Ben sighed. "Why is your first question 'what happened last night?' I mean, what happened last night was you forced me to go to a party I didn't want to go to in the first place and that's not going to turn out pretty so I don't know why you're surprised I'm in a bad mood today." 

"You ran into Hux." 

"No, I didn't -"

"You did, didn't you?" 

"No -"

"Ben."

" _Fine_ , I did. We had an idiotic conversation, he had the most pathetic excuse for a costume known to mankind, and then I came home. And then I came here. And it was not enough sleep. That's the only reason I'm grumpy." 

Rey raised her eyebrow at him, but she settled back into her work and wisely seemed to keep her questions to herself throughout the rest of the day, and week, and into the next one. 

If only Ben could have so much self-control. 

He found himself idly considering scenarios between scenes at rehearsals, or while making espresso beverages, and all too frequently in the moments before he fell asleep. Most of them involved fewer clothes than a Darth Vader costume, and all of them involved him showing Hux precisely who was worthy of wearing said Darth Vader costume. When two weeks later he woke up, hard, after a dream that made him groan into his pillow, it felt so much like a foregone conclusion that he couldn't even be that angry at the dream, only frustrated and annoyed with himself.

"You're obsessing," he told himself. "Stop obsessing." 

"You know I had a meeting with Hux this afternoon," Finn said to Rey the day after the dream. He was talking to Rey, but Ben was right there and he glared at both of them vaguely before he determined not to listen in. However despite the show of cleaning the espresso machine, he found himself slowing so he could overhear the conversation. 

"I think he mentioned that Darth Vader guy at least ten times in the hour we had for lunch," Finn said to Rey. "Ten times, like that's an average of every six minutes, which is a little borderline obsessive, really." 

Ben looked over at both of them to find them both returning that gaze right back at him. "What?" 

"I think he liked you," Rey said with a grin. "Was it good, what he said?" 

"I mean, there was a lot of talk about 'romantic and idealistic notions'," Finn grinned over the overly sweet iced espresso drink Rey had just made for him. "And like a bunch of criticism of Romeo and Juliet, and how Darth Vader was so much cooler when he was just the just stalking around Force choking people."

"I'd like to Force choke him," Ben muttered. 

Finn laughed. "Kinky dude." 

"No!" Ben said too quickly and he could feel his cheeks heat up as if both Rey and Finn would see inside his head to the dreams that had made him awake all too bothered. "That's not at all the sort of choking I'm talking about." 

"I mean, he might get off on it," Finn winked at Rey. 

'If he's talking about him that much he obviously made an impression," Rey smirked back. 

"He mentioned something how getting to know the person under the mask was always a disappointment." 

'Which probably just means he wants to be proven wrong, clearly." 

"Well that's not going to happen," Ben inserted into their conversation.

"I'm sure he wouldn't mind if I gave you his number," Finn pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. "Here it is, 206-341-"

"I'm not contacting that guy. I'm too busy right now anyway," Ben said. "I've got the play coming up in a week. If Hux wants to fixate on some guy in a costume he's never met before, that's _his_ issue. I haven't thought about him since that night. And I don't care to be reminded of him now." 

Rey and Finn shared a look that Ben couldn't say he cared for, and he pressed his lips together irritably. "I'm going to go get more beans." 

Thankfully without much extra time between rehearsals Ben managed to focus on his role, his blocking, and pulling the proper emotion needed for the part. He was able to completely pour himself into the role and he took to wearing the costume fedora jauntily over his braided hair, and allowing himself to immerse himself in the idea of being a 1930s detective for real. The next to last day of production week he was startled by a text on his phone. 

-I'm in the back office come back please.

He stared at the name and a flutter of anxiety started to build in his chest. Snoke was never around on site or rarely so. Perhaps months later Hux had finally made good on his threat to contact Snoke. Or somebody else had. Ben had not been at his best for the past month and he knew it. Even outside of the Hux - situation (he didn't know what else to call it) - Ben had been tired and distracted as he often was just before a major performance, and he'd been snapping and more forgetful than usual. But… not usually to the customers. The time the other day with the woman and her stupid vanilla pumps wasn't typical. Well, not really. There'd been the company of business professionals that he'd managed to mess up three of their drinks, but he'd offered the three who had the mixed up drinks a free drink card, and they'd all seemed mollified. 

Ben pulled the apron off and glanced down, but he was in black pants and a button up black shirt so any stains that might have escaped the apron weren't really going to be viewable. His hand reached up to his hair, but the braids were keeping most of it off his face and the fedora holding them back, which should be acceptable under Snoke's policy. He drew in a deep breath, or three, and headed towards the office that Snoke usually didn't inhabit. 

Ben didn't know what Snoke did outside of the shop. Mostly he seemed to own things. Three coffee shops across the city in different places, and he rarely spent any time at this particular one, instead leaving it in Ben's hands. He also owned the community theater Ben was performing at and it had been Snoke that had gotten Ben his first real role - seeing 'potential' in him. In addition it seemed he owned some sort of shipping company that occasionally stored things in the back-room and Ben had never asked why. 

Ben straightened up and knocked on the door. Through the frosted glass pane he could see Snoke moving around and he entered tentatively at the 'come in'. 

He also didn't know what had happened to Snoke's face. The scar tissue with its wrinkled appearance gave Snoke a look most people didn't care for - this was probably why he tended to not show himself at the store frequently. It was almost ironic for someone who worked in theatre, a sort of Phantom who would give actors and actresses the stage to become something beautiful while he himself couldn't. 

"I was about to head to rehearsal," Ben said as he closed the door behind him. "You just caught me." 

"Good. Have a seat my boy," Snoke motioned to a wooden chair in the corner and Ben stepped across and sat down. Snoke remained standing, but he always remained standing. Compared with Ben, Snoke was slight of stature, but his presence always felt as if it took up the entire room. "How goes your part?"

"Good," Ben straightened his shoulders and tried to infuse confidence in his words. "This opportunity has been so helpful. I feel as if I've grown a great deal in my acting since I've been working on this." 

"You were a bit too much in the streetcar scene last night."

Ben felt a hot flush step up to his cheeks. Of course Snoke had been at the rehearsal. It was production week and last night had been the first full dress rehearsal. Snoke always came to see what was happening in his theater. There had been one time that one of these trips had caused a last minute rewrite of the scripts and dropping of several key scenes which had been a nightmare that Ben had somehow lived through. 

"Too much?"

"Melodramatic is the word I would use," Snoke was calm in criticism, which was one of the ways Ben knew he could count on the criticism to be meaningful even if he could feel his confidence plummeting. 

The truth was that he'd been really proud of how he'd handled the streetcar scene the previous night. The words had flowed, and he'd felt as if he was understanding in a new and deep way the motivations of the man he was playing. Perhaps even that this ridiculous scenario with Hux had been helpful in a way because Ben had started pulling on emotions from that. But Snoke had been doing theater for far longer than Ben, and he'd been a personal friend of Ben's grandfather, and he'd given Ben more tips about his Grandfather's acting and abilities than he'd ever received from his two parents who - while perfectly willing to live off of his grandfather's name recognition - had strictly discouraged Ben from following in his grandfather's footsteps. He nodded, trying to not get angry at the criticism even as he could feel himself worrying. 

"I'll tone it down tonight. What of the opening scene? Did you see that?" 

"That I did. You seemed as if you lost your focus briefly…?"

"Not - I mean, it was more of a purposeful pull-back, because the character is sort of trying to figure out where he's going from here." 

"It didn't work. The following scene though - I liked that." 

Ben tried not to blink. He'd hated that scene last night. This was why he had Snoke, his ability to view his own acting objectively was non-existent, and the directors were not always as helpful as they could be. 

"That's good to know, thank you sir." 

"Change the streetcar scene, Ben. Your grandfather would do it with more subtlety."

"I'll work on it tonight, thank you." 

It was the next to last dress rehearsal and Ben felt as if everything completely fell apart. Perhaps it was his own lack of confidence after Snoke's criticism, but what had been intended to be a run-through without any breaks, turned into one break after another as Phasma, the director, began to make comments. 

"Like you did it last night Ben." "Are you going to be prepared for the 'don't waste your time and money reviews?' Because that's what we're signed up for!" "I've seen better acting from Kindergartners playing pretend!" 

By the mid part of the second act, Ben felt tears pushing at the back of his eyes, and his foot extended to kick the folding chair across the stage as rage was easier than tears. 

"Fuck this!" he yelled. "If everything I'm doing is wrong why did you cast me?!" 

"You've changed everything you were doing from last night," Phasma pushed back at him. "Last night I thought we were ready to open tonight, now I think we need another month, why are you changing everything at this point?" 

"I didn't know I was changing everything - I was adding some feedback I got back -"

"Well - _don't_."

"It's from _Snoke_!" 

The two stared at each other. In theory there were other people in the room - the actors, the tech crew, the director's assistant, but their eyes locked in a duel. 

"Start the scene again," Phasma grimaced. "From the top. No more stopping." 

True to her word, Phasma didn't stop them again, not for Ben or anyone else, but at the end of it Ben found himself exhausted. Snoke had hired Phasma, but Phasma seemed to have preferred his other interpretations. If Snoke could have just bothered to come to an earlier showing, then maybe he could have given his feedback earlier, maybe even to Phasma as well. But even if it hadn't been, Ben would have had something to work from and to argue with Phasma over earlier and he wouldn't be left feeling as if everything was going to be a disaster. The cast had been dismissed, the lighting crew was up on the catwalks, and Phasma called him back. 

"Ben? A word." 

His shoulders felt tight as he stepped off of the stage and over in front of her. Phasma was as tall as he was, taller possibly, and that was no small feat for anyone of either gender. And where her height might have made some women awkward, Phasma seemed to carry it with the expectation that she deserved it, and everyone else should fall into line with that reality. 

"I know it's late to change anything," Ben muttered. "If it wasn't Snoke…" 

"I know," Phasma straightened her shoulders and seemed to consider the stage. "I appreciate that he has opinions and that he is trying to help you out, but it is late. It's dress rehearsal, changing your reactions and motivations as drastically as you were at this point in the game does nothing to improve your performance and because it throws off everyone else as well, it does nothing for the play either. That's my opinion, it's my direction as the director - ignore Snoke's comments and go with your gut." 

"He'll not like that," Ben looked down at the floor. The pattern in the carpet felt like something out of the 1920s and he wondered if it had actually been in the theatre for that long, or if it was something they'd specifically purchased to provide that look. Probably the latter. It'd have been worn through if it'd been here for a century, right? 

"I'll take the blame for it," Phasma returned. "This is beyond your performance, and affects the health of everything on stage. I can't stop you, but that's my recommendation." 

Phasma was a good director. Following her directions was probably a smart thing to do. But Snoke had given him more opportunities than Phasma had. Snoke had been instrumental, even, in his securing this part, and every other part he had secured in this theater. Snoke promised him that he would invite the right people and that someday someone was going to see Ben's performance and recognize in it the ability to do what his Grandfather had done - and that would be his breakthrough. Yes, he was nearly thirty and it hadn't happened yet, but Snoke had promised that it would. And Snoke knew the reviewers better than anyone.

To say he would think about it wasn't a lie, but it also made it sound like he wasn't going to really think about it. And he _would_ think about it. Probably way too much, if all other things were created equal. Phasma was saying to go with his instinct on the part, which was exactly the opposite of what Snoke had told him. 

"I'll try." 

He did want to do the part justice. He just wasn't certain how. It was a question that would keep him up that night, eventually ending up on the sofa around three in the morning watching one of his Grandfather's films, skipping through to only the scenes with his grandfather, repeating the words that he knew all too well, and trying out inflection and tone - some that came out like his grandfather's take, and others… which came out with a flare of his own. There would be no way for him to play the part precisely like his grandfather, and maybe that wasn't altogether a bad thing? 

He was not asleep when his alarm went off and he scrambled to the bedroom to turn it off and not wake up Rey who didn't have a class until 8am. He dressed in silence. He almost left the fedora in his room, but after a moment's hesitation he slid it on his head and went to the shop immediately brewing the coffee so that he could have a much needed cup of his own. 

Maz surprised him by being his first customer. He gave her a tired smile and reached for her mug. "The Sumatra is fresh; I just brewed it." 

"Good," she dropped her tip in the jar, and the payment across the counter. "Also, I've got this ready for you. In time for your Thanksgiving dinners if you wish it." 

She passed across a package wrapped in a brown grocery bag. Ben looked at it, both wanting to say he really didn't need it, but also curious what she'd done. 

The benefit of this hour, perhaps intentional, was that there wasn't anyone behind Maz, so he reached across and opened it hesitantly. The sweater inside was a heavy knit, black, an Irish fisherman style, with a zipper from top to bottom, and Ben had to admit, it looked comfortable. 

"Well try it on, it'll go with your hat," Maz took a sip of coffee bemused by Ben's expressions.

He shrugged it over his shoulders, finding it fit perfectly, just large enough to feel like he was wrapped in it and for the first time since last night's dress rehearsal he felt calm. 

"It's, uh, it's great Maz. You didn't have to, but thanks." 

"You look sharp young man," Maz seemed pleased with her work. "And I hear you've a first performance Friday night? Well, break a leg." 

"Thanks," Ben nodded. If Maz's command felt as much a good luck charm as this ridiculous sweater then maybe it wasn't impossible that he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know there was no Hux & Ben interaction in this chapter, but it is coming, I promise! Hopefully it will be worth the wait!


	4. Americano

Somehow Ben survived Thanksgiving dinner.

There were the usual questions from his parents, however well meaning, about whether he was planning on returning to school for a useful degree. The usual invitation from his Uncle, equally well meaning, to attend services that Sunday. His Aunt Mara was the only person outside of Rey who knew his performance started the next night, and let him know that they had tickets for Saturday evening, they were looking forward to seeing it - what could he tell him about it. She'd worked in theater for a while herself, mostly live in New York City, but she'd gotten a few film credits too - enough to have an IMDB page of her own, and enough to have worked as a very small girl on one of his Grandfather's films. It was a fact that Ben suspected only he appreciated. Mara had been young enough she remembered little, but she had told him the stories over and over and frequently enough that he could have shared them himself now.

Ben suspected he survived by a combination of Finn demanding attention by being Rey's 'new' sweetheart and Poe Dameron, his mother's current preferred employee, having been invited. And possibly Maz's black sweater. Ben genuinely had started to like Finn, or at least like how Rey was around him, even if there was the danger that both of them were too saccharine sweet to be allowed in public without causing spontaneous cavities everywhere they went. Maz's sweater wasn't his typical look, but Rey hadn't said anything about it, which probably meant that either she knew it was from Maz already, or she figured that he'd just picked up something from the play now that the days had turned chilly. Poe Dameron though… 

Poe was damnably attractive. A few years older than Ben he'd been hired by Leia Organa just out of University and while Ben was still a student. The first year that Leia had invited him to holiday with the family, Ben had felt simultaneously like the smallest being in the universe, and also desperately attracted. Poe felt like everything Ben wasn't and could never be, neither too short, nor too tall, he was dark, but his features were undeniably handsome. And he was successful, interested in things that Leia and even Han were interested in. He could create conversation on the drop of a hat, Ben hated him, and he could admit that it was probably just because he was jealous. But he supposed if he didn't have a sibling to outshine him, than one his parents adopted would have to do. 

Poe had been somewhat distant this holiday though and had left early, before the ball game had even finished. Rey and Finn had stolen most of the attention, and Ben had managed to avoid his parents out-right sniping at him about his career choice. Maybe this would be the play that would finally let him say 'this was worth doing'. 

_Maybe_.

Of course on opening night, with an americano in his hand as he arrived at the theater, Ben was anxious. He'd been able to put out of his mind all of the advice that Snoke had given him. He'd been able to ignore the fact that he was going to have to choose between the direction that Snoke had given him and Phasma's painstaking direction. He'd been able to ignore the crushing weight on his chest that made it difficult to breathe, and pushed him to believe that possibly this was going to be the most important night of his life and he had better not mess it up. But tonight _felt_ different. 

He'd dressed in relative silence, done most of his own make-up, but stopped when the make-up artist came over to check it and his hair. She'd handed him over the Fedora, and he'd mumbled a thank you and stood-up, leaving the remaining half of the Americano on his dressing table as he headed for the stage. 

_I can do this_. 

And he could. He'd played this role dozens of times and there was nothing different about tonight. He'd reach inside where all of the words lived, and he'd give himself to the part like he always did. 

The streetcar scene worried at Ben as he stood in the eaves waiting to go on. If he messed it up it would throw everything. 

_"The role tells you how it wants to be played."_

The words drifted into his head as he half-processed the lines on stage. They were his grandfather's words, from an interview that his Aunt had found on YouTube and sent him that morning. He could see the black and white video, the handsome assuredness of his grandfather as he leaned forward as if he were sharing a secret with the interviewer. 

_"The role tells you how it wants to be played and it's my responsibility to listen to it."_

Listen to it.

Ben breathed in and closed his eyes and found George. George in the Fedora, George who was world weary, and struggling, George who fought to bring a little justice to a dark city, and George heard his cue, and walked on stage. 

The rest of the performance felt like a blur - reflex and rehearsal and understanding. The audience was with him, and some part of Ben knew it by the time he stepped off the 'streetcar', he knew it by the absolute silence during the the climax, and he knew it when he stepped onto stage for the applause. His lips turned up in a shy smile as he stared past lights into the mostly darkened faces of the audience and he took a bow. 

"Someday I'm going to smack you after one of these," Phasma met him at the edge of the curtains and she wrapped her arms around him.

"I thought it went well. Did it not go well?"

Phasma shook her head at him. "You knocked it out of the house. You didn't do anything I was expecting, but somehow it fucking worked. You're a bloody genius, Ben." 

"I don't think I'd go that far-"

"I would," Phasma said. "But don't get cocky about it. Go see people and then find me when you're ready to go. Cause there's a group of us and a party and there's someone I want you to meet." 

"All right," Ben said hesitantly. He hated parties, and hated even more parties sprung on him by surprise and without any warning. 

Phasma seemed to sense the hesitation as she slapped him on the shoulder. "You can leave whenever you want Ben, I know you're tired, but I want to buy you a drink, and this will be a good meeting for you - I promise." 

So Ben had stepped out to greet the people in attendance, and found himself with Rey's arms thrown around his chest. "You were amazing! I wish Mom and Dad had come tonight! You'd best do just as amazing tomorrow night!" 

"Why haven't they hired you for Broadway yet man?" 

"They don't usually send talent scouts out from New York to community theatres here," Ben returned. And no matter what Snoke claimed he might be able to offer, it seemed this was true. 

Thinking of Snoke seemed to have brought him out of the shadows, as Ben saw him suddenly standing by the wall speaking with one of the other actors, a young woman that Ben was pretty certain was another of his proteges. Snoke looked up, saw him, and turned back to the young woman. Ben could feel his enthusiasm draining away. 

"What?" Rey seemed to sense it almost immediately. 

"Nothing, I just - I don't think Snoke was happy with the performance." 

"I don't know how he couldn't be. Every review in the papers tomorrow is going to be going on about your emotional depth, mark my words," Finn encouraged. "They're going to have to extend the play's run by a whole week just cause they're so sold out." 

Ben shook his head, finding the encouragement pleasant if not particularly realistic. 

"Are you going to tell him?" Rey asked. 

"Should I?" 

Ben looked between the pair of them. Rey's hand was in Finn's, and her eyes were twinkling, and Finn looked worryingly pleased with himself. 

"What's going on?" Ben asked with dread now creeping up to fill the place where the enthusiasm had drained away. 

"So I had brunch with Hux today," Finn grinned. 

"Oh lord," Ben shook his head. "I don't want his number, I'm not going to-"

"No, wait, Benny, seriously, wait!" Rey shook her head, and there was a grin.

"He wanted to know what my plans for the day were. So I laughed and told him I was going to go see Darth Vader in a play. And he said, the Darth Vader at my party?, and I said, that's the one, and he said, is that the play at the Neptune? And I said, you know of it? And he said, I've got a ticket for tonight." 

Ben stared at Finn, and then at Rey, both of whom looked ecstatic and Ben despaired of his ability to use words to communicate 

"Don't you see? He's been obsessed with you, and he was here tonight - I mean, I assume, I haven't seen him, but that doesn't mean he wasn't - and he saw that ass kicking performance you just gave." 

"Are you kidding me?" Ben asked. "You didn't give him my name?" 

"I mean he's going to recognize you from the coffee shop probably," Rey pointed out. 

"But he doesn't know that I'm -" Ben let out a breath in frustration just as an older woman approached him. 

He gave Rey a quick glare before putting on a smile and small chatting all the while wishing that he hadn't agreed to go to the party, and that he could just escape right now. He didn't feel like dealing with strangers, and this news - that Hux had been here and seen him, and because he was easily the tallest person on stage, probably put two and two together, and he could come find him now - was making him anxious. Ben didn't want to be found even if a low pressure in his dick suggested that maybe that wasn't entirely true. After the woman it was a couple, and Finn and Rey moved to the side, whispering between themselves and finally Rey grabbed his elbow and said "I'll see you at home" between guests. 

As it thinned Ben returned to his dressing room, pulled off his costume, removed his make-up, and instead settled back into the black trousers, black turtleneck, and Maz's sweater. Despite Hux, it felt as if the sweater might have been been a good luck charm. If Finn and Rey and Phasma were right - the reviews would be solid. But he hadn't spoken to Snoke, and he sensed disappointment in the glance he'd gotten, and none of the praise from Phasma, or from Rey and Finn, could undo the fear that he'd done some damage by not taking Snoke's suggestions into consideration. Then there was the Hux situation which made him want to kick his chair across the dressing room. He resisted and left, finding Phasma near the back door. 

"There you are," she said with a fondness that made him wonder if she'd already started drinking. "It's just a brief walk, let's go." 

The bar they ended up with was two blocks down, a small British style pub that was a favorite of the actors. The main room was noisy with English football league playing on large screen televisions, but Phasma led them back to the back-room tonight. It was low ceilinged with brick walls and wood paneling, full bookcases against one end, and a combination of tables and lounge furniture. And while Ben didn't recognize everyone, he saw a number of the cast and crew. 

Phasma handed him a hard cider and said, "they promised to keep the grill open until midnight tonight for us, you want food?" 

"The cottage pie maybe?" Ben told her. Something warm and comfortable, kind of like his sweater, seemed to be a good idea considering his nerves. 

"Comfort food," the voice that had been haunting Ben's dream spoke from right next to him and he froze. 

"Oh, there you are, Brendol," Phasma stepped forward in front of Ben and to his astonishment wrapped the man next to him in a Phasma-style hug. She stepped back with a large smile on her face. "I was hoping you would make it." 

"I could hardly turn down your invitation," Hux said smoothly, and his eyes turned to Ben. "It's Ren isn't it?" 

"Ben actually," Phasma interrupted before Ben could offer the correction himself. "Ben Solo. And this is who I wanted you to meet. Hux this is Ben, one of the strongest and most dedicated actors I've had the pleasure of working with this year. Ben, this is Brendol Hux. He's a scouting agent for First Order Films, and he was very impressed with your performance tonight." 

"I did not use those words," Hux was smirking slightly. 

"You didn't need to, I speak Hux." 

"I'd half expected to be introduced to Anakin Skywalker." 

In what took about five seconds Ben downed a swig of the cider he'd been given, considered possible exits, and resigned himself to whatever hell he'd currently walked into mostly willingly, if entirely unintentionally. "It's Darth Vader to you." 

"You two know each other already?" Phasma looked bewildered, but of course she did, Ben thought. Because how could she have known that she was introducing Hux to the barista he'd flat out insulted, or that introducing Ben to a scouting agent for one of the most prestigious film companies in the sound might not be something he'd be dying to have happen - and let's be honest, he _was_ dying to have it happen, but why had it needed to be Hux? 

"We met briefly through a mutual acquaintance," Hux didn't seem remotely abashed. 

"Well, then you've got a bit to talk about besides the play, so I'll let you at it so I can go tell the kitchen about the pie for Ben. Be nice," she warned Hux as she walked away. 

Ben didn't know what to say, so instead he took another drink and straightened his shoulders up just a little. Part of him was screaming to at least attempt to schmooze because this was a scouting agent, it could be his big break, especially if Hux truly had liked the performance. But the other part of him was screaming to turn around and leave, it wasn't worth it. This man had been insulting and offensive. He had been rude to a degree that Ben didn't encounter frequently, and he worked as a barista, he'd seen rude nearly every day, but something about Hux had dug deeper - perhaps because it was so close to the digs he'd gotten his entire life. The digs that those degrees were worthless and his choice of profession wrong. Well, presuming that Hux had liked the play, which it seemed that Phasma had indicated that he had, it seemed that he'd just proven his own assumptions inaccurate, and as Ben realized that he turned to look at him coolly. 

"I have a bachelor's degree of fine arts in drama and I was accepted into a masters of arts in acting for screen from the University of London, but had to decline it because of family situations." 

Hux didn't say anything immediately which meant that Ben had to hold the pose as if he wasn't feeling awkward or uncertain for having blurted these credentials out, and as if he wasn't remembering the dreams he'd kept conjuring up for the past three going on four weeks. When Hux didn't apologize Ben found himself irritable, especially as Hux reached for a beer off a nearby tray, popped the lid, and took a swig. 

"Why are you here?" Ben asked him.

"Phasma invited me," Hux finally spoke. "And a degree is only worth so much in theater. You either have what it takes, or you don't; and you have it." 

Ben stared.

"You are the rudest person I've ever met," Ben snapped. "The appropriate response is 'I'm sorry for misjudging you and considering you worthless because you work as a barista in a coffee shop' not 'I assumed you that you were worthless because you didn't have a degree, and now I'll tell you the degree I assumed you didn't have is worthless too while trying to somehow give you a compliment in the process'. I've never met anyone as entitled and emotionally clueless as you."

"Phasma invited me because she thought you had potential. Having seen your performance tonight, I have to agree with her. Do you have an agent?" 

"Are you deaf?" Ben stared at him. "Did you just hear anything I said!?" 

"I did, and I'm trying to have a professional conversation with you, which you are treating about as professionally as you treated my order in your precious coffee shop," Hux returned coolly. "There's no need to get emotional about any of this. You were _actually_ enjoyable that night at the Halloween party. Did you recognize me?" 

"Yes, and the entire time I wanted to tell you to fuck off." 

"Of course you did," Hux rolled his eyes and took a drink. "That seems to be about the level of maturity I can expect from you."

"Because that's so much less mature than spending an entire lunch constantly bringing up a stranger you spoke with for fifteen minutes?" Ben was probably going to regret this eventually, but the sharp glance from Hux meant that he wasn't going to regret it _yet_. Instead Ben smirked. "Yeah, Finn told me about your Vader obsession. He's dating my cousin, or maybe you didn't know that." 

Hux's tongue shot out to lick his lips and Ben felt as if his abdomen was turning to jelly suddenly. Phasma was on the other side of the room, heading this direction - no she'd been waylaid by another actor that was fine. This was fine. Why were there so many people in the room? 

"Your costume was impressive," Hux's words felt measured and precise and holding back. 

"Yours wasn't," Ben said flatly. 

Hux laughed then. "Well, I'm the agent, not the actor. It's not my job to look impressive - at least not in that way." 

"Suits and button up shirts? That sort of impressive?" 

"It's professional." 

"It's stuffy," Ben returned. "At least Devil!You looked like you might have fun occasionally." 

"This is stuffy?"

Ben had to admit that with his pressed khakis and rolled up sleeves on his oxford shirt that Hux might have hit a note that wasn't completely stuffy even if there was no way he was going to admit it out loud.

"Because you look like you were part of the tech crew," Hux waved a hand up and down to indicate Ben's current outfit. 

"Black is a good color for theater, and for barista-ing," Ben pushed his hair back from his face, hadn't he just defended his preferred choice of clothes the other day to someone else?

"I didn't say it looked bad, Ren." 

"Ben," he corrected automatically even as he felt like the ceiling was too low, the room too crowded, and too warm, and he should take off his sweater. 

"I prefer Ren," Hux returned smoothly. "He's the only barista I know who can make a decent dry cappuccino with stiff foam." 

Ben had not drank enough to deal with this situation. He wasn't even sure what this situation was. Awkward professional encounter? Possible life changing meeting? Some vague come-on? His heart was pounding in his chest and he wanted to walk away but he wasn't entirely certain that his legs would work properly if he moved them. 

"You can't have missed it that much," he pushed back. "You've not been back to have one for over a month." 

"Two months, three days _and_ ," Hux pulled out his phone. "About twelve hours." 

Ben blinked. 

He sought for some come-back, something witty and pithy sounding, but his brain seemed to have emptied of everything except the focus of his heart pounding. Finally he looked away, across the room, and pulled in a breath. "We've been open all that time." 

"I didn't think I'd be welcome." 

Ben opened his mouth to snap that he wouldn't have been, but then he closed it again. He knew that Phasma had meant well by bringing Hux here. Tomorrow morning he would be touched by it, and feel guilty for what he was about to do, and call her and desperately apologize. And it might ruin any chance he had of her ever introducing him to anyone again, but he couldn't stay here. 

Without turning his gaze back to Hux, afraid that if he did those eyes would reel him in he turned on his heel and headed for the door. 

The pub was no less crowded or hot than Phasma's private room. If anything it was more so, and by the time Ben made his way through the crowds of people and tables, and out into the small alleyway the pub entrance was on, he was ready to gasp the cool November night air. The alley had been reworked, and a number of pubs and restaurants opened onto it, across the top multiple lights had been hung to light the entire thing, and Ben stepped across the street towards the far side which was all the backs of brick buildings, and he put his hands on the wall in front of him. 

Breathe. 

He had no idea what the hell had just happened. Hux was infuriating. Smug, and arrogant, and damnably hot, which was probably not the sort of thing that he should be thinking about a professional scouting agent. Ben groaned and smacked his hand against the wall as a familiar voice spoke into the night. 

"I didn't know it was you." 

Ben closed his eyes against the sound of the voice and after a five count he pushed himself off of the wall to turn around and find Hux standing on the other side of the alleyway with his eyes on Ben. 

"Phasma and I have been friends since grade school. She told me that she had someone she wanted me to meet. He was the lead in her play. He's got presence, she said." Hux waited for a couple to pass before he stepped forward towards Ben and the other side of the street. If he'd been wearing a jacket when he arrived, he hadn't stopped to put one on, which meant he looked small and cold in the night air. 

"She gave me your name, but it didn't mean anything to me. This morning when I had brunch with Finn he mentioned that the guy from the Halloween party would be there. I recognized you from the shop immediately. Your face is somewhat unforgettable," Hux pushed these words out almost as if they were painful. "I kept thinking someone would come out that would be taller than you and when no one did, I had to face the fact that you, my professional contact, were also him, that guy from the party who didn't mince words, and was interested in theatre, and story, and character, and who intrigued me terribly." 

Despite the cool air, Ben felt claustrophobic again. What was Hux trying to say? Mostly he seemed to have gone out of his way to be an ass to Ben, and all Ben could think was that his hair looked softer tonight than normal, and the arms underneath his rolled up shirt sleeves made Ben want to run his fingers up them till the shirt wouldn't let them run higher. "What are you doing out here?"

"Apologizing." 

"You're doing a terrible job of it." 

"It's not something I do frequently." 

Ben couldn't help the laugh; he could no longer handle the absurdity of this situation. "You had the opportunity to do that at the shop you know?" 

"I was trying to," Hux closed the distance between them, and he reached out his hand to touch Ben's, bringing Ben's gaze down to where Hux's fingers were resting on his now.

"You were doing a terrible job of it." 

"I figured that out." 

Ben's breath felt light, and his heart threatened to beat loudly enough to be overheard. The touch on his hand was the electricity that had kept him running for most of the past month. When he lifted his eyes from their hands, Hux was gazing at him intently. 

"I have an unforgettable face," Ben repeated back, feeling ridiculous for grabbing one line out of the line-up of ridiculous things that Hux had said. "What does that even mean?" 

"It means I was trying to introduce myself to you." 

He had been there, regularly in the shop. He'd been one of the regulars, that Ben had never really noticed. Just another businessman in a suit who was curt and particular about his coffee. Ben had written him off as a jackass, and really it seemed like he hadn't been wrong about that. But those eyes were holding his gaze now.

"How long are you going to call me 'Ren'?" 

"How long are you going to let me?" 

There was a challenge in his voice. It was the sort of arrogance that should have deeply offended Ben, but instead it only sent warmth spreading through him. It was a warmth that he wanted to answer so he did. He stepped forward, pressing his lips to Hux's as he reached out with his hand to try to find Hux's hand to grab it. Hux's lips were warm, and as Ben made contact not with Hux's hand, but with his waist, he took a step forward pulling them slightly off balance, the dizzy sense of falling into Hux fighting with the kiss, enough that he moved to pull back, or would have had Hux's hand not found Ben's sweater and tugged, and together they took two steps, Hux backwards, Ren forwards, neither wanting to let go despite the imbalance, until Hux's shoulders made contact with the wall behind him, hard enough it must have smarted. Hux broke the kiss for an instant to let a breath out before he caught Ben again. 

Hux's other hand found Ben's neck, sliding fingers up along his hairline and sending shivers down Ben's spine. Hux smelled like aftershave, it was something Ben never used and frequently laughed at, but on Hux it seemed to fit. It smelled like the woods, or the lake when he'd gone to the cabin as a kid with his parents. And like the sweater Ben was wearing it felt like somewhere he wanted to stay. His hand went in search of Hux's waist now, his fingers searching for the edge. Some small crack in the armor of 'professional apparel' Hux covered himself with, some way to find skin that was beyond the lips underneath his, and the hand against his neck - this had been his idea and possibly a very horrible one - but he didn't care.. 

When Ben shifted to a more comfortable position, his hips slid against Hux's and a low whimper from the other man shot electricity up his spine as he found skin, just a bit of it under the edge of that crisply buttoned shirt. Hux's body was warm despite the chill night air, and Ben could feel a hipbone under his fingers, and he was aware that he hadn't had enough alcohol to blame any of this poor decision making on that. He wanted this. He'd wanted it since that touch at the party a month ago. 

Ben pulled back to breathe, the freshness of the night air rushing in to fill in the void of Hux's aftershave, it smelled too much like beer or fried foods or city and terrifyingly not enough like Hux. He opened his mouth as if to speak and instead moistened his lips, and Hux leaned forward to catch Ben's tongue and this time Ben was aware of the taste of beer he somehow hadn't quite kissed off before. 

"Maybe I like 'Ren'," he admitted, not giving Hux a chance to speak as he pulled back. 

Hux let his breath out, his fingers were still against Ben's neck, small circles along the hairline. "Yeah?" 

"I should," Ben pulled back a little, taking a step further away from Hux so he could breathe again even if he didn't entirely want to. "I should... go. I was going to go." 

"You ordered a Cottage Pie," Hux pointed out.

Ben turned to look at him.

Hux shook his head, pulling his now empty hand up to the back of his own neck. "Look, Phasma expects for us to talk. I - I would like to talk work possibly." 

"Haven't we just completely blown that out of the water?" Ben stared at Hux. He'd wanted to kiss him, yes, but it hardly seemed like the ideal way to start a professional relationship.

"This is show business," Hux pointed out. "Actors sleep with their playwrights, their directors, their -" 

"I'm not like that." 

"I didn't say you were," Hux pulled in a shaky breath. "Fuck it. Why can I say nothing right with you?" 

"Maybe you could stop assuming the worst of me, and that'd be a good place to start," Ben suggested hotly. 

"I'm not trying to - dammit. I like you, all right?" Hux's words came out loudly enough that a couple who was exiting the pub stared at them. Hux made a face and put both hands on his hips and turned away, watching out of the corner of his eye until the couple was out of sight and then he turned around and hissed: "The last thing I want to do is annoy you, and yet that's all I've seemed to have done. But you just kissed me, so I think I've got a chance here."

"That was a -" 

"Really good kiss." Hux interrupted him. "You can't tell me you didn't think so too." 

The thing was - Ben really couldn't. His head was still screaming with the kiss, and the knowledge that this had been a terrible idea and that he'd just ruined everything and he was going to have to explain to Phasma that he kissed her agent, and it was a James Bond kiss of death - any hopes he'd had for First Order Films were gone now. "You know most apologies start with 'I'm sorry'," he suggested. "And usually it continues on by not repeating the offense. And someone who doesn't respect me, or my story, or who I am-"

"I'm sorry, Ren." 

Ben stopped short caught in the silence between them.

Hux finally broke the silence with the same eerie control that he'd had at the coffee shop. "I don't know your story, but I'd like to. You're a damn fine actor. And Phasma's right, you've got potential. Can we… start over? Forget all of this, and the damn university degree question, and the stupid Halloween party, and my inability to pick out a decent costume for my life, and instead sit down and you tell me what you'd like to be doing - because I'm guessing it's not Community Theater - at least not permanently." 

Ben couldn't help but wonder if Hux's legs felt as wobbly. But even with the desire to see if any part of Hux still tasted like beer, Ben knew that he was a fool if he didn't try to have the conversation, even if his stupid impulsive kiss might have complicated it completely.

Ben nodded slowly. "All right, but just for an hour. I've still got a morning shift." 

Despite the control in Hux's voice, there was a release in his posture at Ben's words and he nodded and gestured back towards the pub for Ben to lead the way. So Ben did, feeling awkward, and drained as he headed back to the private room, and found one of the tables that wasn't being used. Phasma had found them with the cottage pie almost immediately, and Hux started asking questions about Ben's experience, his favorite roles, what he'd tried and succeeded with, what he'd tried and failed, what he'd like to be doing. Perhaps even more astonishing was that Hux listened without much in the way of commentary at all, making a few notes here and there on his phone in between questions and sips of beer. True to his word he didn't keep Ben for longer than an hour, and when Ben left, it was with a full stomach, and a flutter of something that was probably just hope, but he couldn't be sure. 

It wasn't until he was at home crawling under the sheets way too tired to really think about reliving the night's events that he realized that it was possible that in a professional sense Hux had just offered him what Snoke continually promised to give him -- but never had - and that Ben literally had no idea what came next.


	5. Irish coffee for two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I appreciate everyone who has stayed with me while there has been this super long gap between chapters. This chapter turned out about 3000 words longer than I was originally intending, so hopefully it will help to make up for that long gap.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read, kudos'd, commented, and generally enjoyed my trek into Kylux for coffee shop AU - I hope you've had as much fun as I have.
> 
> And now, without further ado, the final chapter.

Ben woke the next morning with the surreal feeling of having dreamed the entire night previous. From the performance to the bizarre after party to Phasma's introduction to Hux - to the kiss. 

That kiss. It felt at once the most real and also most dreamlike. Ben could remember so easily the fresh smell of Hux's aftershave, the way his cheeks had brushed against Ben's with just a hint of stubble on them, yet all of it had been granted a fantastical dreamlike feel in his mind. If he had drunk more than he had, Ben would have blamed it on a hangover. As it was, he lay in bed for almost too long before pulling himself up, skipping the shower and instead pulling the top of his hair back in five small braids away from his face as he pulled on jeans and Maz's sweater, and headed for work. As he pulled the dark Irish knit over his head he almost could believe he got a whiff of evergreen.

That notion was blatantly ridiculous. There was no way that he'd been near to Hux for long enough to pick up his aftershave on the sweater and have it linger there the next day. But even knowing that, he found himself dropping his nose to his shoulder as he reached for the messenger bag he'd need after work. There was no additional scent that he could pick up, solidifying the notion that he'd completely imagined it and he left the apartment quietly, but with a pledge to forget everything about last night. 

This proved easier said than done, because as Ben stepped onto the early morning bus, and sank into a seat, reaching for his earphones, he found himself struggling to focus on the words of the song playing from his phone, and instead thinking about exactly what he'd said he wouldn't. 

He had made an idiot of himself. 

This wasn't certain, but it was a fear that kept pushing back in to try to paralyze him. When confronted with Hux, and when told that he was someone that maybe Ben ought to talk to, he'd just walked out. But Hux had followed him, if anything Ben couldn't help but feel that Hux had pursued him out the door, and pulled him back in for a conversation, so surely he hadn't made too many mistakes. 

But at the same time, the relationship they had - if one could even call it that - looked nothing like any normal, respectable relationship should look. 

Hux had insulted him, Ben had insulted Hux back, they had argued, and then they had met and argued some more, and one amazing kiss was not enough to build anything on. Yes, all right, they could possibly fuck, and it might possibly be amazing, but it wouldn't be more than that or they'd probably kill each other. And none of that took into account Hux's professional standing, or the fact that Ben could stand a great deal to gain from trying to pursue something, and would it be just using someone to do that? Would Hux ignore him completely after having gotten something? 

Ben pressed his head back against the window groaning at his inability to quiet his mind on this issue. But he needed to do so because even the thought of fucking Hux was making him wish he was somewhere a lot more private than a public transit bus. 

The back store-room of the shop was more private, especially since he was the first one there, but it wouldn't be the case for long as late as he'd stayed in bed. He was running late to complete all the necessary tasks before unlocking the door. Ben hung up his bag, washed his hands, and set about preparing the espresso machines and starting drip coffee, all the time wishing that the tasks weren't quite so well-known at this point in his career. Each checklist was memorized and could be completed on autopilot, leaving the forefront of his mind to consider the possibility of soft ginger hair between his fingers, and whether Hux had muscles under that lean physique, and whether or not Ben would ever be in the position to find out. 

When he went into the store-room to grab supplies he nearly lost it at the whiff of evergreen from an air-freshener, and Ben groaned loudly at his obsessing, kicked a half-empty box, and determined soundly that he would put his mind to his work, and stop, _stop_ thinking about Hux for any reason whatsoever. 

This was largely successful once people started arriving in the morning pre-work rush. Typically Ben let Rey take over the cashier position when she arrived while he made drinks but today he let her do the drinks, and he dealt with the people. While he was exhausted and not particularly thrilled with the idea of so much social interaction, people couldn't be interacted with on auto-pilot. They forced his mind to the front and center of what he was doing, what their drink was, how much money they'd given him, and the only time he could begin to think about his obsession was in the quiet in-between moments -- moments that wouldn't exist for long enough to allow him to really start obsessing until much later in the morning. 

Ben was counting out two handfuls worth of change amounting to the payment for three flavoured lattes when a familiar crisp accent hit his ears. 

"Twelve ounce triple shot organic skim milk dry cappuccino with stiff foam, please. But you should take a minute and read that first."

Hux was standing on the other side of the counter sans formal suit. The formality had been replaced with khakis and an oxford shirt, much like the one he'd worn last night, only with a sweater pulled over the oxford, and a light trench coat pulled over that. In front of him on the counter was a copy of the morning newspaper, opened and laid flat on what Ben was certain was a review. 

"I never read reviews," Ben deferred as he reached for a twelve ounce cup.

"You should read this one," Hux was unperturbed as he stuffed a dollar in the tip jar. "Extra stiff, please," he smirked slightly. "The foam, I mean." 

Ben didn't blush. It just wasn't a thing he did, but with Hux's words he could feel his cheeks heat. The morning's obsession and physical responses to said obsession was making his brain and his body fill in meanings and frustratingly, he was like ninety percent certain that Hux almost certainly intended for him to do so. "Shut up," he muttered, but there was no one in line behind Hux, so Ben sat the cup to the side to pick up the review. 

The entire piece was most of a full page in the newspaper which felt impressive, if Ben were being honest with himself. The play was a popular one, but it was still community theater and normally Ben was used to his reviews taking up about a third of the page and calling it good. There was a critique of some of the set choices, a question about the relevance of the story to modern life, and then about four paragraphs in Ben read a sentence, stopped, and then started it over again. 

_Theater regular, Ben Solo, provides heart and enthusiasm as the worn-down George Nelson. No stranger to show-business, Solo, who is the grandchild of Academy Award winning actor Nick Walker, proves he's inherited the keys to the family business."_

Warmth spread up his cheeks for the second time, but this time it had nothing to do with Hux. Instead he read the words one more time, and then a second time, and then he glanced up at Hux. 

Hux had one eyebrow raised. "You didn't tell me you were the grandchild of Nick Walker." 

"You didn't ask," Ben said automatically, moistening his lips and purposefully swallowing to try to reduce the tightness in his throat as he put the review back down, pretending - mostly unsuccessfully - that he hadn't been _so_ affected by it. He picked up the cup again, writing Hux's name on it - spelled correctly this time - and he stepped over to the espresso machine. 

"I suppose that's fair," Hux smirked. "They're not wrong though about any of the rest of it. It may, in fact, be one of the most fair and truthful reviews I've seen grace this paper in the past five years." 

Ben did blush now, steaming the milk for the cappuccino. "You know you don't need skim milk," he suggested, trying to take the attention off of his performance. 

"Is that a compliment or an insult?" 

"It's - neither, just a statement that you don't seem to need it." 

"Maybe I like to take my treats in other ways, Ren," Hux's lips pressed together into a smirk, his eyes not leaving Ben's face. 

Ben glanced over and those eyes met, and he knew he was furiously flushed. "It's Ben."

"I like Ren." 

Maybe Ben did too, if he were being entirely honest with himself. "Fine," he said dismissively. 

"Anyway, it's just a review," Ben decided that the review might be the safer subject after all. "They don't mean that much. A few people decide to come and go based on reviews, but many have already made up their minds whether they'll see it long before the reviews." 

"It's a damn good review, and you should to come to dinner with me next Monday." 

Ben was pouring the foam into the cappuccino and his head shot up at this statement leaving room for some of the foam to pour over the cup's side and he hissed gently, wiping the remnants on his apron. "I'm sorry, what?" 

"I want you to come to dinner with me next Monday," Hux repeated. 

Ben looked back down at the cup, finishing off the rest of it and putting a lid on it before handing it back over to Hux. As he passed it to Hux, their fingers touched along the edge of the cup, sending a slight shiver along his skin. 

"Why?" 

"I think that should be obvious," Hux stepped up, putting the cup gently down on the counter for a minute. "You don't have a performance Monday evening, it's the nearest potentially good time for us to have dinner." 

"Okay," Ben mumbled, looking down at his hands and wiping them on his apron again. "Okay, fine, sure." 

Hux reached in his pocket and left a business card on the top of the espresso machine. "That's my cell number - text me later and I'll send you the address." 

For a moment Ben was certain that Hux might lean across the counter and try to kiss him again and his heart pounded wildly with the half-hope of it, despite the fact that it would be a largely impossible kiss despite the height the two shared, but then the bell over the door rang, and Ben's attention was pulled to the couple that had walked in, and when Ben looked back, Hux had picked up his cappuccino once more and he winked at Ben. "Have a good day, Ren." 

Ben watched him go and then frowned at himself. 

"You have a good day too, Hux," he muttered irritably. "Or 'thanks for the invitation for dinner', or 'thanks for bringing the review by', or… ugh," Ben sighed frustrated, and pulled a slightly less frustrated expression on to his face for the approaching customers. "What you getting?" 

Ben didn't mention his conversation with Hux to Rey that night, and he didn't the next day either. It wasn't until Sunday - a day he didn't have to work at the coffee shop that he mentioned it while he was sitting on the sofa watching her play a video game. 

"Wait he what?" Rey looked over to him and something on the game screen exploded. 

"You just died," Ben pointed out.

Rey had already put the controller down and was turning around to face him. "Dinner? Really?" 

"You've been working on that level for an hou-"

"Ben!" 

"Yeah, okay, he asked me to dinner." Ben shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not certain what that means." 

"He's into you." 

"You and Finn have gotten this idea in your head," Ben pointed out, suddenly grateful he hadn't told her about the kiss after the play. "And it's nonsense." 

"I don't think so. Finn says he's mentioned you several times, and how good you were in the play, and he keeps talking about you all the time. I think he's really into you Ben." 

Ben wasn't really certain what to say and so he stared at his toes on the sofa for a moment. The silence filled the small apartment broken only by the repetitive level change music from the video game. 

"Do you like him?" Rey asked finally. 

"No," Ben replied automatically and then he sighed and shifted. "I don't know." 

It had been true at one point in time, but Ben wasn't certain that it was still true that he didn't like Hux. What he was, perhaps, was confused by Hux. The man had insulted him at the get go, but the conversation they'd had at the Halloween party had been - if somewhat infuriating, also somewhat stimulating. The conversation they'd had at Phasma's after-party had been equally so. On a professional level, Hux knew the business well, and Ben was confident was fairly well connected. He'd spoken easily and authoritatively on what might be possible for Ben, and despite the kiss, he'd kept things business like throughout what had despite its rocky beginnings been a really good conversation. 

And then there was the kiss that might have messed everything up, but somehow, bizarrely didn't seem as if it had. It was a kiss that Ben had spent way too much time reliving over the past weekend. The memory of the press of Hux's lips against his could warm his cheeks now, and he shook his head to stop that train of thought while sitting on the sofa with his cousin. 

"Maybe," he admitted. "I don't know." 

Rey gave him a look as if she thought she knew but she was going to be nice and not force him to say it. 

"Shut up," he muttered. "Go play your game." 

She smirked. "Don't worry, I'll be glad to help you figure out what to wear." 

He threw a pillow at her.

But Monday afternoon he was more grateful for her advice. She'd gone into his closet and picked out a pair of charcoal trousers, a dark black button up shirt, and an Imperial symbol tie and laid them all out on his bed. "Really you've got to get some clothes that aren't black, Benny," she said good naturedly. "But this is at least different shades so you've got interest. You can roll up the sleeves if you want on the shirt? Might make it a little more you." 

Ben had spent too much time messing with his hair, he'd had it in braids earlier so at first he'd thought it was too full, but then he'd let it down and thought maybe it was okay, then he'd pulled it back in a bun, and then he'd pulled that out again. Finally he settled for keeping it down and putting some hair cream in it and cursing his nerves he left for the address Hux had sent him. 

The restaurant was a quiet mediterranean place near a nice business district. The hostess took his name and led him immediately to a table where Hux was already sitting with a dark haired amber skinned woman. Ben frowned as he approached, but the table appeared to be set for three and Ben could feel an angry knot filling his stomach alongside a hot rush of embarrassment. Whatever he had thought Hux was offering, it seemed that it had been something different, and Ben wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door, but at that moment Hux's eyes met his and he smiled and waved a hand. 

"Ben, good you're here," Hux stood up, and the woman with him followed. "Davina, I'd like you to meet Ben Solo. Ben, I'd like you to meet my colleague Davina Mitaka. She is currently casting several films in London, but she's visiting family here this week and I thought it would be the ideal opportunity to introduce you." 

Caught off guard, Ben offered his hand and a tight smile. "It's - uh, Hi," he managed to push out awkwardly, the shame of knowing he was not managing any enthusiasm sliding in on top of the embarrassment about misunderstanding Hux's intention for the evening and filling in the cracks like fudge on a less than tasty ice cream sundae. 

"Brendol has been telling me all about your current role and I read the reviews and wished I'd had a bit of time to come see a performance myself, unfortunately tomorrow is my last day in the city," Davina smiled warmly, seemingly nonplussed by Ben's lack of enthusiasm. "You've been doing theater for some time Bren says?" 

Hux had sat down again and Davina was doing so also, and Ben found himself trapped once again in a situation that was not what he anticipated, and once again Hux was at the center of it. He was beginning to think that whatever he'd told Rey was a flat out falsehood, and no, he most definitely did _not_ like Hux, no matter how exceedingly well the man could kiss. He seemed bound and determined to make Ben look like an idiot, and to smile about doing so. 

Ben sat down, reached for his water and nodded. "That's right, I've - well since university so about six years now."

"Community theater, mostly," Hux filled in for Davina. "But he has family in the film business." 

"Had," Ben corrected. "My grandfather was Nick Walker, but obviously he's no longer making films." 

"Nick Walker," Davina sighed. "He's _still_ one of those leading men isn't he? I can see a bit of him in you I think. Certainly your local reviewer seemed to see the connection." 

"I just tried to listen to what the part needed," he offered in an attempt at humility although he could feel his cheeks warm and he glanced over at Hux wondering if this had been the plan from the beginning. It hadn't been very clear to him, when Hux had found him in the coffee shop, it had sounded like he was asking him to dinner - to _dinner_ \- and he had said nothing about it being business, instead flirting a little bit while asking. Had Ben completely misread that?

Davina asked another question and Ben had to scramble for an answer. The entire situation was making him feel wrong-footed and irritable. He'd never liked things being thrown on him without any preparation and the past few weeks he'd had way too many things thrown on him spur of the moment and all of them had involved meeting strangers or people that would have been easier to meet if they had been strangers. It was enough to make him somewhat terse as the questions continued, the food was ordered, and by the time Davina excused herself to use the restroom, Ben's back hurt from the tension in his shoulders. 

"She's been casting some incredibly big films," Hux remarked when she was out of earshot. 

Ben didn't say anything and instead reached for the glass of wine he'd ordered. 

"Did you hear me?" 

"What is this?" Ben looked up at him, his tone sharper than he intended. 

"Dinner." 

"A business dinner," Ben couldn't help the flat edge to his tone even as he hated himself for that flatness. He was giving away that he thought it had been something different, and that was embarrassing and pulling up all of the shame that he'd been trying to bury since the beginning of the evening. "Of course it is," he continued without allowing Hux the opportunity to respond. "But you couldn't be bothered to tell me that I would be meeting casting directors for incredibly big films." 

"I thought it would be obvious," Hux's brows gathered together. 

"You asked me to join you for dinner on Monday and you thought it would be obvious that other people, specifically casting directors, would be there? How are you a talent agent again?" Ben looked up now, his dark eyes glaring at Hux. "You have no communication skills." 

"The last time we spoke it was about the play, about the possibility of me getting you introduced to some people," Hux pointed out, referring to the professional conversation the two of them had. "I assumed that this was a continuation of-" he stopped and looked at Ben, his brows attempting to meet over his nose. "You thought it would just be the two of us."

"No," Ben muttered, pushing a piece of pasta around his plate. 

"You thought it was a date," Hux's tone would have been unbearable if it hadn't been accented. 

"No, I didn't," Ben shot daggers in Hux's direction. 

"Because I didn't mention anyone else, you thought - fuck." Hux was still looking at Ben. 

Ben couldn't bear the gaze anymore, or the embarrassment of having come to the wrong conclusion about all of it, or particularly the fact that he'd outed all of this with the emotional capability of a child and now Hux _knew_ he'd thought it was something else. Why had he thought there was any possibility of making a professional relationship work with someone whom he couldn't stop thinking about kissing? It was a terrible idea. He grabbed his napkin from his lap, threw it down on the table in front of him. 

"Forget it, I'll just go." 

"Ren."

Ben could hear the word from Hux but he didn't stop, instead heading to the entrance of the restaurant - a small internal lobby on the main floor of what appeared to otherwise be a fairly typical office building. Ben had reached the front door when Hux caught his arm. 

"Ren, wait." 

"Let me go, I'm tired of all of this, I appreciate everything you've done, but -" 

Hux had grabbed his arm with surprising strength for someone so lean and when Ben turned back around to provide Hux with the very good reasons why nothing was going to work, he found his lips captured by the man who had grabbed him. Ben stared for an instant before his eyes dropped closed in time for Hux's hand to find his neck and slide up under his dark curls. There was that dizzying smell of evergreens and fresh woods, and despite the tension in his shoulders, Ben's hand fumbled for Hux's waist, tripping over the belt hooks and finally wrapping behind Hux and tugging him further into a forward step into Ben. 

Whatever confusion he had about the pieces of himself that were trying to break into the acting business and the bits of Hux that could help him to do that could be set aside every time their lips met. The fact that Hux was a shit communicator, and they seemed to be constantly at odds with each other seemed less important too with the press of Hux's body against Ben's own, and the breathless sense of only wanting more that Hux seemed to inspire. 

"You're going to make me want to go camping," he murmured when Hux pulled back. 

"What?"

"Your damn aftershave makes me think of the cabin we used to rent on the coast." 

Hux chuckled, low: "You like my aftershave." 

"No, it just makes me think of that." 

"You like it."

"What the fuck are we doing?" 

"I'm asking you to go to dinner with me again." 

Ben pulled back then, staring at Hux. "What?!?"

"Look, you're right, I didn't make it very clear, and I -" Hux sighed. "I'm going to do this all wrong, inevitably, completely, because I don't think I've ever done this quite like this. I'm asking you to go to dinner with me, _just_ me, like a date. Sometime. Not tonight, obviously." 

Ben raised a hand to his forehead and rubbed his temples. "You're completely insane." 

"Probably." 

"We can't even get through one meal without a major misunderstanding." 

"We need practice communicating." 

"We need a fucking translator." 

"You're Darth Vader, build us a protocol droid." 

Ben looked up, Hux was smirking slightly as he looked at him and Ben couldn't help echoing the smile on the corner of his lips. 

"I restate for the record that this is a terrible idea." 

"So was the lava pit." 

"Are you going to just keep throwing Star Wars references my direction?" 

"Maybe," Hux shrugged. "Are you going to say yes?"

"Maybe," Ben straightened his shoulders. 

"Good," Hux straightened his in return. "We should go back in before Davina wonders what happened to us." 

Ben didn't think he was imagining the relief in the other man's face even if he was beginning to wonder at his ability to read Hux at all. And he also knew Hux was right even if the only thing they had managed in the past few minutes was to make him wish that the evening had been what he'd wanted it to be, what Hux seemed to have just held out as an offering, and one he was completely insane to accept. 

"I am sorry, Ren. I should have been more clear." 

"I don't like being surprised by people," ironically surprising himself by admitting this fact aloud and to Hux of all people. "I like to know what I'm walking into." 

"I'll keep it in mind," Hux didn't seem bothered by the revelation. "You should never do improv." 

"Theater's different," Ben responded. 

Hux's lips formed a brief smile but he made no response other than to turn and walk back towards the table leaving Ben with no option but to follow him. 

Ben rather thought life had been simpler without irritatingly attractive and utterly incomprehensible people in it. He hadn't been looking for anything and yet it seemed that it had arrived with kisses, the hint of open spaces, and the promise of something that was just tantalizing enough to make him keep saying yes despite his better judgement. Maybe, _maybe_ if they had dinner together with just the two of them and no one else, Ben could decide whether or not he needed to say no the next time around. That seemed reasonable and it was the thought he held onto that night as he purposefully found a bar and nursed a drink until it was late enough that he could be certain that Rey would have given up on him returning and giving her a full report that night and he could sneak into his bedroom with the hopes of avoiding any questions about the 'date' that had just been Ben's misunderstanding. 

Rey didn't share a shift with him the next morning as it was her day off which meant that he managed to get out of the house without any of those questions as well. Hux didn't show up at the coffee shop, and the day was steady, if perhaps lighter than normal, which gave Ben more time to think about everything than he would have liked. 

Thankfully he had more than one thing to consider between macchiatos and americanos and lattes and espresso shots. There was Hux, which Ben had spent way more time thinking about over the past few months than he wanted to admit to anyone - including himself, but then there was also the professional aspect of what Hux potentially offered. 

For the first time since he'd signed on at the coffee shop, the idea that he might get signed on to a legitimately professional theater or film cast didn't seem completely outrageous. Hux had connections and he thus far seemed willing to utilize them. Whatever else had happened between them that night, he had followed up on his promise to look into casting calls within twenty-four hours of the conversation he'd had with Ben, and had arranged a networking dinner for him. And Ben hadn't even agreed to have Hux represent him as his talent agent. 

Which brought a level to all of this that Ben wasn't entirely certain that he was comfortable with. So far Hux had asked for very little, but seemed to be offering rather a lot. And whether it was because he felt bad for his insults during their introductory conversation, or whether it was for some other reason Ben had no clue. It could come with strings attached, but was that necessarily a bad thing? 

When he'd started working at the community theater, it had come with strings attached - sort of. Snoke had told Ben he needed a manager for his coffee shop on third, and Ben had said he could probably learn coffee. So he had, and Snoke had kept him playing in shows consistently since then. However, Snoke had yet to follow-up on any of his other promises - actually getting Ben seen by people that had enough power to let him go places - but it had kept him with work, enough money to live on, and a creative outlet that… well, it had given him some opportunity to explore his craft, even if it hadn't necessarily brought him any other benefits. Ben had never really considered what might happen if he asked to leave the coffee shop or work for another job - would Snoke find someone else? 

His stomach curled uncomfortably tight and Ben handed an espresso shot over to a customer as he wondered if he might. In fact, he still hadn't heard from Snoke since their disagreement about how to play George and the scene with the car. Ben's reviews had been solid. Phasma had been pleased. Hux had been pleased enough to introduce him to a casting director that worked with major Hollywood filmmakers. But Ben still hadn't heard from Snoke. With no additional customers, he stopped, looked across the coffee shop and wondered if Snoke was angry with him. The silence didn't seem to bode well. 

_Strings._

There were maybe more strings attached than he was aware of there being. Invisible strings that he might get tangled up in. 

If what Hux offered came with strings, then would that be any worse than what he had currently? Particularly if it got him further towards his goal of following in his Grandfather's footsteps? And if those strings happened to be sexual in nature, there were certainly worse strings especially - if Ben was perfectly honest - when it was Hux they were discussing. And Hux hadn't been wrong, as offended as Ben had been by his statement, stranger things happened in show business all of the time. 

He sighed and started cleaning up the counters as he pushed these thoughts to the background. He was getting ahead of himself. Maybe if the date worked out, he could ask Hux to recommend someone else to represent him, so that there would be no strings attached specifically to Hux and then he'd be free to potentially explore that kiss his mind kept wandering to a bit further.

When his phone vibrated with a text message near the end of his shift, Ben glanced down and wondered if his thoughts throughout the day had somehow summoned Snoke. On the phone was the message, rare, but always the same, to meet Snoke in the back office. Ben handed things over to the evening shift employee, closed out his register and headed towards the office with a weight in his chest he couldn't seem to quite extinguish by deep breaths. 

The anxiety was an over-reaction because Snoke hadn't spoken to him the opening night of the play. Surely Snoke was pleased with the reviews and the full house nights that review had no doubt helped to facilitate. Surely he couldn't be displeased with that sort of response to a play that he was earning money off of, could he? 

Snoke was there in the back office with his attention on the computer screen in front of him. When Ben entered, Snoke didn't look up or acknowledge him, forcing Ben to stand uncomfortably by the door for a moment and finally cough lightly announcing his presence to his employer. The pause did nothing to make the weight lessen. It was Snoke related anxiety that both at once made him think he should turn in his two weeks right now, and also try to make amends - in whatever way was necessary - to get back on the good side of the man who really had offered him quite a bit in terms of experience and the ability to live on his own outside of his parents disapproval. 

"Ah, Ben," Snoke looked up finally. "There you are. Sit." 

Ben sat. At least now if he blacked out he'd have less far to fall. 

"Hi," the greeting fell flat leading Ben to rush into adding additional words to it. "I meant to say hi the night the play opened, I saw you, but then there were a lot of guests and by the time I had greeted all of them, you seemed to have gone. I'm sorry I didn't catch you." 

Snoke didn't say anything at first and then leaned forward. 

"What were you doing with Davina Mitaka and Brendol Hux?" 

Ben had no idea what he was expecting Snoke to say. A congratulations on the success of the play might have been nice. A critique of his performance would not have been outside of the norm. But this question sent Ben reeling. _How did Snoke even know about it?_

"Have you been following me?" The question sprang to his lips before he really had a chance to think it over. The fact that this didn't seem logical didn't really matter so much as the initial spike of irritation he felt at the notion of it. He didn't belong to Snoke, no matter how many strings might have come attached to his position in the theater. He was allowed to meet with other people for any reason, and he'd never been told otherwise. It was absurd to think otherwise. 

"Please just answer the question, Ben."

Snoke's calm voice only increased Ben's irritation and his voice rose a moment both in volume and in pitch. "No! I mean, I want to know how you knew I was with them. I can have dinner with people without being questioned about it." 

"Ben, I have offered you certain advantages, and you have offered me certain advantages," Snoke turned in his chair, his eyes drilling into Ben and making him feel for a moment that perhaps Snoke could read his mind. "The play has been doing very well indeed and has garnered a bit of press and attention. I understand you may be feeling somewhat 'special' at the moment, but you should be aware already that fame is very fleeting in this business and you should not lose track of what I have to offer you." 

"What you have to offer me?" 

"Opportunity, Ben, and steady work and investment in the local community. Mitaka is well known for her… fickleness, and Hux, well… He is a business man." 

"As opposed to what, you? You're _not_ a businessman?" Ben knew he was pressing hard against boundaries that Snoke put into place a long time ago. The weight in his chest had been replaced by a frantic pulse, and he could no longer sit still, needing to match the anxious beat in his chest with movement in his legs so he stood up, leaning forward over the desk. "You own this coffee shop, you own a theater, a theater that is doing very well right now because I followed my gut and performed a part the way I felt it should be performed. You have no right to question me about any of this." 

"I _care_ , Ben," Snoke didn't stand up, his position in the chair as settled as a stone statue. " _That_ is the difference. That is what I have to offer you. You came into this shop a theater school graduate who believed he was going to have to go and work for his Father, something he didn't want to do. I gave you this opportunity because I saw in you something that could bring good things to this community." 

"You said you would get me seen by agents, by people who could actually hire me for films, for Broadway," Ben spat back. "In the past six years, how many people have you introduced me to? I've known Hux a week and he's already introduced me to more people than you ever have." 

"Careful." 

The flinty warning should have been enough to pierce Ben's anger, but it only served to increase his push-back. "Careful? _Careful_!? You don't have any intention of helping me work in films do you!? You never did! You needed a coffee shop manager and someone who could insure reasonable success of your theater. You're using me!" 

"I have given you opportunity to grow and perfect your craft, you ungrateful _child_!" Snoke hissed. "I have given you top billing in dozens of plays, the opportunity to be reviewed well, and to live independently while doing so -"

"You told me I was good enough for film, for Broadway. You said you could help me get there. It's been seven fucking years and _I'm still here_." Ben kicked the chair in front of him and it slid into the wall, teetered for a second with the impact and then fell over on the floor. He used the empty space in front of the desk to walk forward, place his hands down on the desk and stare Snoke straight in the eye. 

Ben was so much taller than the other man, it felt odd that for so long he had felt so much smaller than him. But right now he just felt angry, and emboldened by that anger to be reckless, the words that came out surprised him: "I quit." 

"Ben -" Snoke began but Ben stepped back towards the door shaking his head at whatever protest, cajoling, or excuse the man might start to offer. 

"This is my two weeks notice. I'm done." It should have terrified him, this feeling of quitting a job and having no idea what would happen next, where the money for next month's rent would come for, or what might happen to Rey's job as a result, but instead he felt as if he could fly away. 

"Don't bother coming in tomorrow," Snoke's eyes had taken a dangerous glint. "If you have anything here you need to take with you, you should do that tonight. You're done. No two weeks. Just now. You're done." 

Ben didn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the flinch that hit with those words. Even if the decision felt right, hearing it from Snoke made it feel icily real and terrifying. He backed up until his hand hit the doorknob. Probably there were things he should have asked about - his paycheck, the play itself, things that might need to be resolved - but he couldn't ask them now. Whatever it was, he'd have to figure it out on his own somewhere other than this room. He opened the door and he fled. 

Ben gathered his things on autopilot. There wasn't much to be gathered, just his jacket, a small backpack of things he'd left in the back for breaks when he needed something. The reality of what he'd done began to sink in as he left the shop. He would have nearly a full two weeks' paycheck this coming Thursday. That would cover rent for the next month, but he'd have to find something to manage after that. He was a trained barista and he was a good one, so hopefully it wouldn't be so hard, but something as steady - or paying as well as the management position - particularly when he didn't have the references from Snoke, because how could he ask for references? - seemed unlikely and impossible to come by. 

It was nearly dark outside, and it was raining as he stepped outside the front door of the shop and it closed behind him for the last time. Ben stood for a minute in the small overhang before he pulled the hood of his jacket up and stepped out into the rain. The pressured weight on his chest prior to his conversation with Snoke had given way to a feeling like his limbs were too heavy to move. When he hit the transit stop he stayed put, waiting for the long bus to pull up, and when it did he got on, tapping his card for payment and taking a seat near the back of the bus. 

Some people hated the large number of rainy days in the city, but Ben didn't. Somehow for him the rain was always comforting in a way that sunny days couldn't be. Sunny days felt like energy and movement and being a child, but rainy days understood what it meant to be an adult. They understood that you needed to slow down, and that things weren't always comfortable even if they were necessary. 

Right now nothing was comfortable. Not the damp feeling of charcoal trousers on his calves, nor the chill that was creeping up from his legs. The only certainty was that he had a remaining week of a play because there was no understudy. For a moment Ben was tempted to call in and say that he quit the play as well - to leave them scrambling between tonight and tomorrow night's performance - but the urge passed. It would hurt Phasma and the cast and crew more than it would hurt Snoke, and while Ben did have a tendency towards recklessness, he took his theater seriously. 

Rain ran in rivulets down the large window of the bus as the dim grey of pre-night turned into the swirled lights of a city in the rainy dark. Ben leaned his head against the window his thoughts equally swirled as the rain outside. He would show up tomorrow, he would do his part, he would do that the next night. But tonight, a night when there was no performance scheduled, he had nothing to keep him occupied from the mistake that he'd made. No customers in front of him to keep his mind from wandering through a maze of choices made and paths not taken.

He had been on the bus for nearly twenty minutes simply riding and staring out into the rainy night when it hit what line he was on. For a moment he lifted his head, frozen as he checked the stop outside. The debate in his head was remarkably short considering and there was a sort of steely determination in his shoulders when he rang the doorbell on a house he'd been to only once before and nearly didn't recognize without the ridiculous set of Halloween decorations in the front yard. He considered pulling out his phone to check the address Rey had sent him back in October, but the rain had picked up and was soaking him through and the number of texts he would have to roam through just to make this happen felt overwhelming, so he just kept going until he stood on the porch step, just underneath the small overhang. 

Why didn't Hux have an actual porch? What was he doing? He turned to look back down the drive and was calculating how much longer it'd be before he could get on a bus back to the city, when the door in front of him opened. It felt like it took him forever to turn back around and face the man who was standing sillouetted by the light of the house. 

"Ren?" 

What the fuck had he been thinking? Suddenly the need to explain to Hux what had been going through his head when he had given his two weeks notice to the only employer he'd ever had, ending in his immediate termination when Snoke had grown angry at him, was something he was going to have to face. He opened his mouth to try to explain, but none of the words seemed to be appropriate for what he needed to convey so he closed it again. 

"Come in," Hux said simply, his brows furrowed together as he opened the door more widely. 

Ben walked into the house, stepping enough into the entryway that Hux could close the door behind him. Did Hux live here alone? Ben could assume so, but there had been so many people here the night of Halloween that he couldn't know for certain. If he didn't this was going to be doubly embarrassing. 

Hux closed the door and his gaze roamed up and down Ben taking in the wet hair, the wet clothing and what was probably a despondent look and he tilted his head towards a hall before he turned on his heel and started walking down it. Ben took that as a request to follow Hux and so he did so, ignoring all the more classic art pieces lining the walls. Pieces he didn't remember from the night of the party. 

The house itself was larger than Ben remembered. Maybe that had something to do with the fact that it had been so full of people on Halloween night. That seemed a likely story. Equally likely was the notion that Ben had been wandering around it in a full Darth Vader costume and Ben, not being small himself, inside a Darth Vader costume, probably made everything seem a little smaller just by virtue of being himself. The kitchen, in particular, seemed larger, less full of furniture. A small under-cabinet television was turned on near the sink but the volume was muted and Hux didn't make any move to turn it up or turn it off. Instead he went straight for the coffeemaker. 

"What are you doing?" Ben couldn't help the question, it sprang to his lips despite his own anxiety about where he'd ended up at the end of the evening. 

"Usually you make me coffee; I'm going to make you some tonight." 

He offered no further explanation than this and Ben wondered what it would be like to drink someone else's coffee, and really he meant not even not his own, but not the beans they used, brewed how he'd been taught to do it, or how Rey made it - always a little different than his method. Sometimes, ironically, hers was a little stronger. 

Ben watched him without offering any explanation for why he was here. Hux wasn't asking the question - yet anyway - and it gave time for Ben to think. Unfortunately his brain just gave him fragments of sentences tumbled around in nothing that resembled ideas that could be offered to anyone. 

As the coffee brewed, Hux pulled out some heavy cream, using a small hand mixer to whip it. He went for the two mugs next, pouring the coffee into each one followed by a teaspoon of brown sugar. It wasn't until he pulled out the whiskey that Ben's eyebrows raised and he realized what Hux was doing. He straightened up and watched as Hux poured in a few ounce of the whiskey, topping each mug with the whipped cream. 

"Irish coffee?" He turned around and offered the first of the mugs to Ben. 

"Yeah, thanks." Ben took it and the briefest of smiles pulled at the edges of his lips. The smile only broadened as he took a sip. "This isn't half bad." 

"I'll consider that actual praise from the best barista in the city," Hux returned wryly. "Drink a bit more and then you're going to tell me why you're here." 

Which was the question that Ben wasn't certain he could answer. The short answer was Snoke, and his job, and the mess of his life he'd managed to make in the past 24 hours, but the longer answer probably involved Hux, and the kissing they had done, and that heated desire for more of that kissing. Perhaps he'd subconsciously been moving here even if he hadn't thought about it until he'd realized what line and what stop. Ben's life was a fucking mess right now and he wasn't certain how to untangle it. He pulled his hood down, took a sip of coffee and let it warm him up before he looked up to face Hux. He breathed rather than truly spoke the words: "I quit my job." 

That said, the rest seemed to flow easier. "Snoke's been following me, I guess. He knew things I hadn't told him about. That we had dinner, with Mitaka. He had the gall to say that he had something to offer me. After seven years of him offering me nothing but empty promises, he had the gall to say that he had something to offer me." 

"Snoke?" Hux's eyebrows raised over the cup of coffee. "You know Snoke." 

"Yeah, he's - I mean, he owns the theater. He knew my grandfather back in the day. He offered me a job out of college at the coffee shop and said he'd make certain I was able to get experience at the community theater and that in turn he'd make certain that people who could possibly see me get work at other places could also see me. Agents or casting directors, or I don't even know. He's said for years I had potential, and now, now that I've actually had dinner with a casting director somehow he knows about it before I even have a chance to figure it out. Somehow all of a sudden it's 'remember who supported you', and what I have to offer you, and I've offered you independence and -" 

Hux's hand is on Ben's arm and Ben looks down to it and then back up, interrupted from his tirade mid-rant. 

"Snoke is notorious for using people. You didn't mention that he'd hired you specifically." 

"It wasn't relevant," Ben faltered. It hadn't been. But suddenly it felt relevant, although he didn't know what to say to that, so instead he went back to the refrain that kept pushing against his head. "I quit my job."

"That's a pity, because where else am I going to get my cappuccino?" 

Ben looked up at him, ready to jump on him for being worried only about himself when he saw the soft concern in Hux's eyes. "I just need an espresso machine," he muttered. "And probably a new job." 

"I have five auditions for you after the play - if you want them."

"Auditions?" 

"Yes, for paying gigs even. Some of them fairly prestigious. Some of them will be cold reading of scripts more than likely. I was wondering if scheduling would be a problem, but you seem to have solved that problem for me." 

Ben's head felt too full, whether from the coffee, the whiskey, the cold of the rain, or the emotion of earlier in the evening, he couldn't say which, but the offer left him feeling stunned. It had nothing to do with his coming here, but it felt too desperately like something longed for to be trusted now. 

Ben pushed the coffee mug back and stood up. 

"Do you want them?" Hux's eyebrows pulled together in a furrow and Ben stared at him. 

What he really wanted was to be able to kiss Hux. What he wanted was to run a finger along that collarbone that can just barely be seen under the edge of the open collar. He wanted to slide fingers up in ginger hair and have the heat of Hux's body against his own, the smell of Hux's aftershave lingering and surrounding him. 

Hux stepped forward, his gaze concerned, if cool, and Ben took that opportunity to step forward himself, pressing his lips to Hux's and his hand up on the other man's neck. 

It was too quick a kiss to be anything but sloppy, and Ben didn't stop to worry about his lips covering Hux's bottom one, or his fingers getting tangled in Hux's hair. He didn't stop to worry about anything but the response as Hux's tongue found purchase against his and fought back for control of the kiss. Hux's hands found Ben's back, and Hux pulled him close, pushing him forward until Ben was pressed against the counter, one hand working up to find buttons in a quest for skin. 

Hux moaned softly as Ben's hand found bare skin under the edge of the top button, and Hux pushed back, guiding Ben's lips and tongue into something with more order even as Hux's fingers slid up against Ben's neck and those still damp curls, messing them gently. It was Hux that pulled back first, but his hands stayed on Ben's neck, his green eyes raised to meet Ben's. 

Ben stared back, his mind screaming at how close those green eyes were.

Hux smelled of more than evergreens. That was there, but also the coffee and the whiskey, and a hint of the dampness on Ben's clothing. 

"This has to be a conflict of interest," Ben managed. 

"What conflict?" Hux raised an eyebrow. "I want you. You want me. I have auditions, you want auditions. There's no conflict there. If anything I would dare say that our interests are very much aligned."

Ben didn't move. Or perhaps it would have been more accurate to say he didn't know how to move. He didn't know how to push forward or how to respond. It wasn't a lie exactly. It might be a terrible idea. That was everything that he'd come to believe earlier in the day, but Hux spoke confidently and here, so close to him, Ben could feel how easy it would be to lean forward and push back, to take whatever it was Hux was getting ready to offer him whether intimate or professional and to not distinguish between them. Perhaps their interests were very much aligned after all, and perhaps Ben was being ridiculous to consider that maybe those things should be conflicting, or they should keep them separate. 

"You do want me, don't you, Ren?"

The confidence had slipped away leaving something that felt as if it might break if dropped. It was an unexpected vulnerability that tugged at his heart and Ben pulled his gaze up from the floor back to the man offering it. Green eyes were watching him, the posture of the man confident, but the eyes cautious. Ben had been full of rash, possibly stupid decisions thus far today, he didn't see any reason to stop now. He leaned forward to catch Hux's lips in his own, closing the distance between the two of them once more. 

Hux's second kiss was greedy, less polished, more honest, and Ben responded in turn. His arm snuck up to snake around Hux's neck, finding a place to hide among the edges of Hux's soft ginger hair. The kiss, the pressure around his waist, it all felt like something that Ben didn't want to lose. He didn't know where he would be living next year, or whether the auditions would turn into work, but Hux was offering a heady, solid rush of belonging that Ben didn't want to question lest it turned out to be a dream. 

Perhaps it was just a day for stupid decisions…

...Or for really, really good ones. 

It was his last thought before pushing at Hux, only to be pulled backwards again. Somehow they found the sofa, and Ben found the skin he'd been so desperately wanting before. Rushed and desperate, the floor of a suburban house was neither the oddest nor the worst place that Ben Solo ever found release, but that release had never made him feel stronger than it did tonight. 

Hux was paler than Ben ever noticed before; a rash of beautiful freckles crossed his abdomen and Ben wanted to trace them with his fingers to create little pictures against Hux's skin. It was a strange thought to have even as he breathed out and little anxieties came crashing back in. 

Hux interrupted those by pulling at a throw blanket from the couch and bringing it down over the two of them. His hand crept over to Ben's hip, resting there gently as he turned and found Ben's eyes. 

"You can't be my talent agent," Ben said, his voice low and urgent as his hand crept over to find Hux's hip as well. "It's not - I can't - You have to find me someone else." 

"You never said if you were going to take the auditions." Hux appeared non-plussed by Ben's request. 

"I mean it Hux, I can't sleep with someone that's… I can't have strings attached any more." 

Hux turned serious then, and propped himself up on one elbow. "I know someone, she's competent and smart. Phasma knows her too, so you can ask her what she thinks. I'll get you someone else, but this…" 

"This is nice," Ben admitted, his heart felt as if it jumped to his throat as he did so. 

Hux smiled, his eyes lit up with the change of expression and Ben wanted to kiss him again, so he did. 

"If I don't like any of the parts; I don't have to do the audition," Ben's eyes are opened again and staring back into Hux's. This feels important to say for some reason.

"No, it's your pick. I'll even not tell you what I think the best opportunities are." 

"No, I -" Ben frowned, his brows pushing together over his eyes. That wasn't what he had intended to say. Was communication going to be a constant issue for them? Maybe. Maybe it was worth it regardless. "I want to know what you think. I just don't want to have to be bound by it." 

"That's not what I want."

Ben looked up at Hux and at the edge of gentleness in his voice and he wondered if the suits and ties are just an armor against the outside world. Ben intimately understands armor, because he has worn a mask himself for so long. He was only ever himself on stage where he wasn't himself at all. 

"Me either." 

"Is this actual communication," Hux raised an eyebrow. "And we didn't even have to do dinner?"

"It might be a start." 

"So auditions, yes."

"Yeah," Ben affirmed as he leaned in for a kiss. "Yeah, maybe, I will."

**Author's Note:**

> Shoutout to my coffee shop expert Cayce for beta reading coffee details. 
> 
> I'm on Tumblr [here](http://jedihafren.tumblr.com/) where I like to talk about stuff I'm writing and reblog (mostly) Star Wars stuff, come join me if you like.


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